The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis: Get Out Alive
by RhythmWolf Rocky
Summary: Get Out Alive; Part one of a three part story. Canada and twelve of his fellow personified nations are trapped in a building, and someone's out to kill them all. Will they be able to Get Out Alive? Various yaoi pairs, violence and gore in later chapters.
1. Matthew Williams: First Arc

_**The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive**_

_**Arc #1: The Game**_

**01—Matthew Williams**

Clear, cold early morning sunshine filtered through the dark curtains and dimly lighted the room as the digital alarm clock rang with loud, repetitive short beeps. A groan of protest rose from the lump under the thick, winter blanket. The young man rolled over, throwing the blanket off as he reached towards his nightstand and smacked the off button hard. He lay in bed, relishing the glorious warmth of pleasure that rests in one's barely conscious mind at waking hours. Then he grudgingly pushed his long, brown hair from his face with one hand, reaching to the nightstand with the other to grab his glasses. After inspecting the clear lenses, the man propped himself up on his pillow with his elbows and pushed his glasses into place on the bridge of his nose.

Looking over to the wall on his right he spotted the calendar and sighed. It was the second Monday in October; Thanksgiving Day for Canadians. But the poor young man had to work, while others had the pleasure of sleeping in on a Monday.

He had to go to the world conference today.

Of course, the other countries wouldn't care about his holiday. They wouldn't even notice him. He was Canada, after all. Why would they need to notice him? Not for the first time he silently brooded over the fact that his brother got to celebrate his Thanksgiving, but not Canada. Huh. Go figure.

Matthew swung his legs over the side of his bed and inserted his feet into his furry house slippers. He yawned, rubbing the back of his neck as he got out of bed, trying to straighten out his bright red-and-white pyjamas, made cozy especially for the freezing, Canadian winters. The young country headed downstairs into the kitchen, eyes crusted, hair rumpled.

A polar bear was already waiting, sitting at the table, the lights in the dining room blinding the half-asleep country. Making his way blindly from the kitchen to the dining room, Matthew stood in the threshold between the two connected rooms, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses and blinking blearily at the polar bear.

"'Morning, Kumajiro..." Matthew mumbled. "It's quite cold today, eh?"

"Who're you?" queried the polar bear in a high, inquisitive voice.

Matthew sighed and made his way to the table. "I'm Canada, your owner."

"_Kanata_?" Kumajiro pressed innocently, "as in the word for village?"

The young man chuckled softly to himself as memories from his childhood came back to him. Ah, yes. It was France who found him; who named him. Matthew felt proud of his background.

He sat down in the chair closest to his friend. There were six chairs in all, for his family, if they ever did visit. But presently Canada and Kumajiro kept each other quite company. A plate of hot pancakes sat between the two accompanied by a mug of hot chocolate, but Matthew could see that Kumajiro had been eating only the maple syrup by the amount of it on his paws and face. Hoping it wasn't empty; the country reached for the bottle and poured the remainder of the sweet, sticky contents onto his breakfast.

Matthew ate ravenously, and then sipped up the quickly cooling drink. Wiping his mouth with a sleeve, he stood up and shoved his dirty dishes to Kumajiro.

"Could you clean this up?" Matthew asked gently, and then pointed at the white bear's syrup-coated fur. "And clean your fur up too. I don't want you looking like that at the conference."

Without waiting to see if the bear had moved, Matthew turned and ran up the stairs back to his bed room. Then, after quickly washing up and combing his long hair, the young man dressed neatly, looking in the mirror to make any necessary adjustments. Turning, he passed his closet on the way to the door, grabbing his light-brown fur coat and pulling it on without stopping. He snuggled against the warm, white fur lining and smoothed the brown leather exterior while stepping lightly down the stairs. Adjusting the buttons and the straps, Matthew paused in front of a storage cabinet in the main hallway by the main door. He pulled out a pair of brown mittens and heavy, winter boots. After pulling those on, he straightened and called for Kumajiro. Then he froze.

Mounted on the wall above the cabinet was a gleaming, unstrung maple wood bow, polished to a gleaming perfection. The strings were lying rejected on the cabinet and the arrow-filled quiver leaned forgotten against the cabinet's side. Matthew had bought the bow just to look cool and stand out, but found it pretty useless otherwise. He practiced rarely—but even so his aim was always on-target—and had kept it for display. Since he was going to a world conference, why not take the bow with him? Somebody might even notice him! Or so he hoped.

Kumajiro had appeared behind him and watched as the young country carefully lifted the bow and sheathed it in a flashy red-and-white cloth before swinging it over his shoulder. The quiver he hesitantly but confidently strapped securely to his back so that the arrow shafts protruded over his right shoulder, ready to be drawn in an instant. Out of impulse more than of need, Matthew finally gathered the strings—one main string and two spares—onto his mittens and shoved them deep into his coat pocket. He turned to his patient polar bear friend and smiled warmly.

"Are you ready to go, Kumajiro?" Canada whispered.

"Who are you?"

Matthew ignored the repetitive question and swung open the front door, Kumajiro right behind.

Cold, crisp Canadian air hit his nose and he breathed deeply, relishing the musky scents of dying leaves and the sharp scent of frost. He closed the door and locked it, then strayed slowly away from the driveway of his mansion and into the forest, looking around and taking his time, enjoying the sight of the colourful trees around his lonely house. The wind rippled through the forest, making deep green fir trees sway, blue-green pines shiver, and light green spruce trees wave. The other trees whispered to each other quietly, much like Canada's light, whispery voice. There was bright orange oak, pale yellow birch, golden-yellow yew, roan red sassafras, browning silver maple, and, of course, rich red sugar maple.

After spending a half-hour crunching through the dead leaves, Canada returned to his driveway and got into his car. Kumajiro hopped in after him and scrambled over him and into the passenger seat. Matthew backed out of the driveway and headed for the border between his territory and America's. He wasn't looking forward to the (most likely chaotic) meeting, but he was sure eager to see his older brother again.

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

Roughly based on HetaOni, although the plot is very different, with Canada as the main character.

I know this is a short introduction and a quite boring one, but it will get better I promise.

Can anyone guess which song inspired me to create this? (LOL COOKIE FOR YOU IF YOU CAN GUESS!)

Please review! And I've got twenty-two more chapters ready and waiting to be posted if I feel like it! XD


	2. The World Conference

**_The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive_ **

**02—The World Conference**

"I can swear somebody's missing."

"This is probably just another _faux_ alarm."

"Oh, shut up, you wanker!"

"Yo, dude. Chill. You're probably just imagining things again, Arth."

"No, I am not imagining anything this time… wait, what are you talking about, America?"

The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, or rather, Arthur Kirkland, glanced suspiciously at his little brother and friend, Alfred Jones. His face was set in a stony expression of disapproval, but his emerald green eyes seemed distracted and thoughtful.

"Do not tell me you are going to do another count of heads, aru," China said in exasperation.

"It doesn't matter, s'long as I'm here!" Alfred said loudly. Arthur closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to control his temper.

"Right, right," the older country said impatiently, and then scanned the room, saying the names of countries as he saw them. "…Russia, USA, France, China, Japan, Germany, the Italians, Spain, Austria, Hungary, Prussia, the Nordics, the Baltics, Belarus, Ukraine, Greece, Turkey, Australia…"

"I'm here!" Sealand the Micro-nation piped up from the crowd, waving wildly.

"Right," Arthur turned away from Sealand and faced his old Allied friends. "Everyone is here as far as I can tell."

Suddenly the huge double doors to the conference room creaked open, causing the crowd of nations to lapse into a rare silence.

"Sorry I'm late," Canada whispered as he slipped in, carrying Kumajiro and peering at the conference with huge, frightened indigo eyes. "America gave me the wrong address."

"Yo, Canadia!" Alfred shouted from the far side of the room. At the same moment, England snapped his fingers and exclaimed just as loud as America, "Oh! It's Britannia!"

Matthew glared at Arthur, indigo eyes as cold as Canadian ice. That was the name the British Empire wanted to give to the younger country centuries ago. He actually hated that name.

"How could you forget?" France scoffed at England. "He is Canada. Why would a Frenchman name this handsome country such an awful thing?"

Matthew smiled and glanced gratefully at France, but the older country's next words made him even more irritated.

"I remember him because his hair is so much like mine," France boasted.

"We already went through this, Francis," Arthur growled threateningly, practically asking for a fight. "Don't make me fight you again."

"Are you saying you want to lose again?" demanded France hotly.

"Lose!" the United Kingdom exclaimed, outraged. "Since when have I lost!" The two countries started to wrestle each other, trying to push the other over. America watched, laughing at them, while the rest of the world started murmuring amongst each other.

The forgotten country clenched his fists and whispered angrily to Kumajiro.

"They act like I'm not even here," Matthew whispered furiously. "ALL of them!"

Suddenly, Germany stood up and slammed the table. North Italy, who was seated beside him, nearly fell off his chair in fright.

"Must I do everything?" the German roared. "All of you shut up! We were all called here for a reason. Can you all just calm down und listen?"

Prussia, who was trying to get past Hungary and annoy Austria, turned to look at his brother and grinned approvingly. "That's right, West! Show 'em your awesomeness!" He flashed his younger brother a thumbs-up and Hungary, seizing the chance, slammed her frying pan onto Prussia's head. The albino fell down, stunned, and Germany face-palmed.

Meanwhile, Spain had stopped tugging on South Italy's hair and looked at Germany. Romano knocked Spain's hand from his head and elbowed the older nation between the ribs painfully.

Russia had ceased teasing China, Poland, and the Baltics and even Belarus stopped her Russia-stalking to pay attention. France and England, hair bedraggled, uniforms out of place, froze mid-fight and focused on Germany. America's laughter faded while the rest of the nations went silent. Canada, still standing by the half-open doors, gazed at Germany in awe. He wished he could be heard and take command that easily. Matthew promised one day he would.

"Now, if I recall, it was Australia who called this meeting in the first place," Ludwig went on as everyone took a seat reluctantly and a bit shamefully. "Australia, if you would be so kind…"

Australia glanced at Arthur hesitantly and, with a small nod of permission from the older country, smoothed back his sandy yellow hair and stood up to address the conference.

"I'm not sure if y'all heard, but my territory is losing a lot of ozone layer coverage," Australia began. "This isn't any good for my people, and I was thinking of calling this meeting so y'all are aware of this."

"Yeah, yeah," Switzerland yawned in boredom. "So what's this got to do with all of us?"

"This is not just my issue, if you don't mind me correcting you," said Australia in an icy tone. "This is what you'd all call global warming, and it's affecting us all."

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

This stuff is really happening, so why not write about it... along with some personified nations which I wish really existed to deal with this global warming crap.

rant rant rant

Get ready for a bit of violence coming up in later chapters!

And of course, if you want to read the rest of the story, please review! Fufu~! :P


	3. The Assassin

_**The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive **_

**03—The Assassin**

Matthew was staring at his half-brother in mixed approval and horror. So it wasn't just him being affected. The other countries were having different problems with the changing world, and now he could see it clearly on their faces. He steeled his nerves and stepped forward.

"I agree with Australia," he began. "It's happening in my territory, too. The ice is melting much sooner than usual and is forcing—"

"So what are we going to do about this, you jerk?" Romano snapped out impatiently, unaware that he was interrupting another nation. "You call us all here just to tell us about this issue we can do nothing to stop, you stupid British Dominion!"

England and Canada were about to defend their names and Australia hotly, but Feliciano was faster. He exploded to his feet, waving a white flag and crying out in a high voice.

"I'm sure global warming will be happy if we all just surrendered peacefully to it! Come on all you guys! Let's just wave our white flags and everything will be alright!"

Suddenly the room buzzed into anxious chattering as each nation tried to bring forth his or her opinion about global warming. America was probably the loudest of all.

"..So I was thinking that we should move Earth farther away from the sun because you know, global warming means that the world is basically getting warmer so if we move it to a colder place it's bound to solve all our problems… or we can just take a giant thermostat and set it so it's just a few degrees colder, you know, so at least we can control the temperature ourselves and all that. Or I could just take the whole global warming issue and, like, send it to outer space so we can all just forget about it and call me the Hero!"

"Don't listen to America, he's had too much coffee this morning," England announced unnecessarily.

"You had too much coffee this morning," spat Francis.

"I'm sorry, but I don't drink such insultingly disgusting liquid," Arthur snapped back. "Someone clearly has never tried the perfect essence of British tea."

"If it's anything like scones," Francis sneered, "I'd rather pass."

Arthur growled and struck France, but the other country caught his fist and both started another little fight between them.

Canada stood watching, fighting the urge to simply walk out. He may be ignored, but he had a right to at least listen to the meeting. He stole a glance at Germany, expecting him to take command yet again, but was surprised as Switzerland's demanding voice rose from the melee.

"I still don't see the point in all this," he said, scowling, while Austria rose to his feet at the same moment and shouted angrily, "There's no point in this." Both nations exchanged surprised glances, then turned their faces away from each other, embarrassed, while Prussia looked on, amused.

"I'm going to leave now," Austria continued. "There's nothing I can do here. I'd rather stay home and compose a piece." He glanced impassively at the listening countries. "At least I'll be doing something productive."

He held his head high and indignantly as he walked out with Hungary following close behind, waving her pan threateningly as Prussia tried to follow.

Switzerland took his little sister's hand and followed without another word, silently agreeing with his old friend. Slowly the other nations left, some alone, some in groups. They completely failed to notice Matthew, who hovered around the doors, not wanting to leave until he at least got to talk with his brothers.

Soon, the large hall was empty. There were only a handful of countries left: Australia, England, and USA, who all wanted to talk privately about the issue, and France, Russia, China, Germany and his brother, Prussia, both Italians, Spain (because he refused to leave Romano), and Japan. And Canada, of course, who began gingerly walking up to the front of the long table where the most powerful countries—like the United Kingdom and the United States—were seated.

Suddenly Matthew felt a tingling down his spine that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He instinctively dropped Kumajiro, who landed gracefully, and shouldered off his bow, rubbed the polished wood with a mitten, strung it, and continued walking, clutching the weapon tight in his left hand. The one good thing about being ignored meant that he wasn't as distracted as the other countries—and therefore knew when danger was coming.

Such as, right now.

A flicker of movement and a glimmer of the whites of someone's eyes in the shadows caught Matthew's sharp, archer-trained eyes. There was movement just behind his brother, America, and the gleam of metal, which was enough to give the archer a target. Within a second, Canada had nocked, aimed, and fired an arrow into the shadows on the opposite side of the grand hall, managing to clip Alfred's jacket and barely missing his neck. Startled, Alfred, Arthur, and the other countries turned and stared at Matthew in bewilderment.

"Sheesh, Mattie," Alfred breathed out, stunned. "If you want to be noticed, just call. No need to go all violent."

Matthew, who was breathing heavily in panic and strain, lowered the bow shakily and scampered over to the end of the table, passing the older countries, and darting into the shadows. He had shot so hard the arrow head had went straight through the enemy's heart and pinned the body to the wall, like a thumbtack would to a piece of paper. He grabbed the maple wood shaft, the owl feathers on the tip tickling his nose. This, he realized, was one of his best arrows. The one with the bone tip specially designed for speed and silence, not aim. It was a miracle he didn't hit his brother.

Trying not to think about the other possible outcome, Matthew wrenched the bloodied arrow out of his victim, who fell to the ground and into the light. Matthew inspected the bone tip of his arrow, wiping off the blood on his mitten and keeping a mental note to sharpen the tip later.

Sheathing the arrow back into his quiver, Matthew turned and found the remaining countries crowding around the body, blood pooling around at their feet. He squeezed in between his two brothers and kneeled down to inspect the victim.

The man was young, and clearly a mortal human. He had fair skin and black hair, like Japan's. His glassy eyes were red, like Prussia's, and he looked to be in his late teens. He wore simple black clothes, almost like a ninja, and was obviously there to kill someone.

"M-maple…" whimpered Matthew in fear. "It's an assassin."

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

Adding a bit of suspense now~!

Please review! :D


	4. The First Battle

**_The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive_ **

**04—The First Battle**

"He was probably here to kill America," Ludwig muttered. "After all, this is America's home."

"So then it's his bloody fault an assassin was able to sneak into the meeting," accused Arthur, glaring at Alfred. "It's your damn responsibility to keep us safe while you're hosting the meeting."

Alfred ignored Arthur's lecture and pulled out a handgun from his waistband, which was kept hidden behind his brown jacket. Then he reached into the lining of his jacket and took out a magazine filled with fresh ammunition, quickly loading the pistol. He inspected the weapon, and then held it stiffly, looking around for more danger.

"Get ready, guys," Alfred commanded unusually flatly. "There's bound to be more."

Canada took the dagger from the dead assassin that was meant to kill his brother, and then instinctively fell into place back-to-back with America, the tingling in his spine less tense, but was still there. Australia stood at Canada's shoulder, boomerang held at the ready. At a closer look, Matthew could see a small but razor-sharp blade on one end of the wooden object. He shivered at the damage it could cause if thrown hard enough. England had taken up a position behind Australia, his shoulder brushing America's. He was muttering something under his breath and his hands flickered into signs that no one could understand.

Soon, the other countries were standing with them, each handling their own weapon. France held a whip, nervously glancing around into the shadows. Russia gripped tightly to his metal pipe; China had both hands clasped on the handle of his huge black wok; Germany was unwinding a leather whip, the tip barbed with some kind of steel razor; Prussia, grinning nervously and standing at his younger brother's side, brandished a steel-and-iron Medieval-style short sword; Feliciano was waving a white flag while Romano produced an iron dagger from his belt, teeth bared in a snarl at the unseen enemy; Spain looked at Romano proudly, then hefted his giant axe, which he normally kept strapped to his back; and Japan unsheathed his long-bladed katana, standing ready to fight.

When everyone was ready, it was silent, save for England's soft spoken spells.

A heartbeat later men dressed in black came down to them from the rafters of the great hall, some on ropes, others crawling along the walls. There were about ten in all, their faces covered so that only their eyes shone.

"Ninja," Kiku hissed through gritted teeth, raising his katana and tensing his legs for a pounce.

"_Stop!_" Alfred ordered, and the countries froze. Beneath their feet was a giant circle of blue light with a complex pattern of lines and runes laced inside.

Arthur paused in his work, hands outstretched, palms down and open, and looked up, an evil, knowing grin spreading across his face. Three of the ninja stepped onto the outer edge of the circle, but nothing happened. The countries fidgeted nervously, afraid to move around inside the magic circle. The black-clothed men took another step within the boundaries of the circle before Arthur clenched his fists and took a deep breath.

"_Brisingr__!_" he roared, and the magic symbols moved about dizzyingly, turning red. The enemies took a final step forward, and went up in flames.

Shocked, the countries waited for the magic to fade and for the ashes of Arthur's three victims to fall to the ground. Then Canada and America raised their weapons, took aim, and fired. Both arrow and bullet found their marks and, as the bodies hit the floor, all the other countries surged forward. England, America, Canada, and Australia stood in a great circle, using their long-range combat skills to help their friends without needing to move from their spots.

Meanwhile, Romano was trying his best to defend his cowardly brother, overwhelmed by four enemies who had appeared out of nowhere.

"Help me Spain, you bastard!" Romano cried out desperately.

"Boss Spain's coming through!"

Antonio leaped in and swung his giant axe in a wide arc. The attackers leapt back, one of them going for Romano while the others tried to defeat the Spanish man, who could barely keep up with them. There was a faint _'zip'_ and the steel tips of three arrows protruded out from the men's bodies, splattering the startled Spaniard with blood. His opponents collapsed and he caught Canada's sharp eyes. They nodded to each other, and then Romano was at his guardian's side, wiping blood from his dagger. Together, they pushed forward, slashing with their weapons, shoulders brushing and minds connected as one.

North Italy, left and forgotten, was facing two ninja, who backed him into a corner. Whimpering and spluttering nonsense as he pleaded with the enemy, Feliciano waved his white flag wildly. Suddenly there was a crack that split the air. Blood splashed and the enemies fell on top of the cowering country. Standing above them was Germany, the barbed end of his whip coated in blood.

"Must I do everything?" Ludwig complained. He reached down to pick Italy up, unaware of the danger approaching from behind.

"Yo, West!" the albino ran up and swung his old sword, beheading two ninjas in one swipe. Panting and covered in blood, Prussia stood with his back to his younger brother, guarding Ludwig as the German helped Feliciano to his feet. Germany opened his mouth to say something, but stopped as his older brother turned around, looking at him with crimson eyes.

"Must_ I_ do everything?" Prussia grinned. He flicked the tip of his bloodied sword at Italy. "He's clearly not gonna do anything. Why not just leave him?"

The German sighed. "We formed an alliance many years ago… I wouldn't leave him alone to die, Gilbert."

The Prussian shrugged and faced their enemies. Ludwig and Gilbert stayed rooted to the spot as they fought for their lives defending Italy.

Russia, France, China, and Japan fought on their own, determined not to work with the other nations. They were doing quite well and soon they were surrounded by dead bodies. Russia smiled sadistically and rubbed at the drying blood on his pipe, only causing the red to smear along his silver weapon. France wound up his whip, and then stored it calmly on his belt. China whacked at his last opponent and hefted his wok, expecting more. Japan flicked blood from his katana and sheathed it, looking around and assessing the situation.

The enemies were all dead, and now the countries could clearly see there were more than ten assassins. The ambushers ranged from fifty to a hundred, the size of a small army. Where they came from, no one could decipher. Japan scanned for any damage done to his friends. Spain and South Italy were close together, surrounded by a pile of black and red. Romano was practically hugging Antonio in fright, and then pushed his old friend away in embarrassment when he realized what he was doing. Germany and Prussia were standing in front of North Italy, who was trembling in a corner. The brothers were panting and doubled over in exhaustion. Prussia straightened, leaning on his sword, and Japan could see his arms, chest and face drenched in enemy blood; he looked more like a Teutonic Knight than ever before. France, Russia, and China were making their way to the head of the table where the countries of (and formerly of) the British Empire were still standing.

Satisfied that everyone was still alive, Kiku made his way over to the gathering nations.

With nothing more to aim at, Alfred and Matthew lowered their weapons, but the American kept his gun loaded, while the Canadian kept his bow strung and ready. Australia loosened his grip on his boomerang, which was sticky with blood. Arthur was in the worst condition out of them all. Although he had not physically fought, the Englishman was utterly spent, and had rested his head on Alfred's shoulder, practically sleeping. Alfred dragged the exhausted country to the table and both of them collapsed into the same chair.

"Just rest now, Arth," the American breathed into England's ear. "I know it takes a lot for you to use all that magic." Arthur relaxed gratefully against his friend and quickly drifted into unconsciousness.

Canada and Australia exchanged bemused glances. It seemed odd that it was England in America's arms this time, instead of the other way around.

The other countries gathered silently behind them, unsure what to do, and too tired to speak out. They looked up when a loud clapping echoed through the hall. It sounded hollow and lonely, a single pair of hands working to fill the silence. Afternoon sunlight sliced through the blinds on the windows and cut through the dim room, lighting up the double doors like a spotlight.

Then the door creaked open and someone walked into the light.

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

ASDFGHJKL I suck at battle scenes so one of my friends wrote an extended battle sequence that you can find on DeviantART. It's on my list on chapters if you can find them. Just search for me, WarriorcatzluvMedi and look for it in my gallery...

This chapter is dedicated to **_Mew I is Dinosaur _**for being my very first reviewer! Thank you so much! :D

Please review! :D


	5. The Stranger

**_The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive _**

**05—The Stranger**

"_Bravo_," the stranger praised, and stopped clapping. The twelve battered countries stared blankly at the newcomer. Arthur stirred in Alfred's arms, but did not wake up.

"I didn't think you would all live through that," continued the young woman. "After all, the goal was to destroy you all. It ended up being the other way around. You should be proud."

Matthew's soft, whispery voice broke the following silence.

"Who are you?"

Amusement rippled through the group. Never before had any of them expected Canada to say that. They fell silent as the stranger began moving closer to them, trampling carelessly on the bodies of her dead companions.

She was about twenty years old, and clearly a mortal, but she held an air of authority that could match any of the powerful nations. She had long black hair and wore a clean white lab coat over a black sweater and dress pants. She wore glasses and carried a clipboard in the crook of her left arm. But what shocked the countries the most was her piercing red eyes which seemed to look into their souls when she met their eyes.

Her thin lips curved into a sneer as she answered the question. "Who I am does not concern you. All you need to know is that those like me wish to save the world," she glared at Matthew and his indigo eyes diluted. "And the only way to do that is to destroy you. All of you."

The other countries glanced at Canada, who had fallen silent. The stranger looked away and the young country's legs failed him. Russia, who stood beside him, quickly reached out and caught him, holding Matthew close for support.

Prussia's red eyes flashed angrily and he returned the stranger's deadly gaze. "And how are you supposed to save the world by killing us? You know how hard it is to wipe out a nation? Trust me, it's hard. I may not be a country anymore, but I'm still alive thanks to the power of the people I once protected."

The two crimson-eyed humans stared at each other for a long moment, and then the stranger broke away, gasping and muttering to herself. "How are you so strong..?"

"Because I'm Awesome," Gilbert grinned.

"That's enough," interrupted Ludwig, turning to the woman. "Just answer his question."

"If I'm not mistaken, you are the countries of the world," the woman began. "You not only represent the countries, you have the power of the people and control over your lands. Well, what would happen if we destroyed you, and replaced you all with humans who can control your people much better?"

"Shut up!" Romano snapped. "How would you know what it's like to support a country? Whatever happens to the land and the people will affect us… and vice versa. If you kill us, you could destroy the entire physical world, not save it, you bitch."

"That may be, but it isn't our point, and let me finish," the stranger leaned on the table. "We'll deal with that if it happens. The main reason we're out to get you is because it's the countries' fault that our world is dying."

"What do you mean 'Our fault'?" Alfred exclaimed defensively. "What right do you have to accuse us of destroying the world? As far as I can tell,_ you're_ the one who wants to destroy_ us_."

"Good, at least we know America's thinking today, aru," China muttered unnecessarily.

"Hey!" protested Alfred, turning his head and staring at the Chinese indignantly.

"Listen to me!" the stranger hissed and the two fell silent. "All you countries ever care about is money. You don't even care how you get it. You tear up the earth looking for resources, and you don't care how much of your own land is destroyed. Then you end up producing all these horrible things that create pollutants that slowly kill the rest of the earth. What better answer is there than to remove you—the ones causing all this mass destruction—and replacing you with more sensible humans who can run your countries better than you, the countries themselves!"

The twelve nations looked away, unable to reply and afraid to meet those deadly eyes. Matthew staggered and tried to support himself. Ivan released the man from his supportive grip.

"Thanks, Russia, for that," gasped Matthew.

"You shouldn't be moving too much, Canada," Ivan replied. "Who knows what she did to you."

"Canada?"

Twelve faces turned to the woman. She was staring warmly at the small country, her red eyes losing the hypnotic affect it had earlier.

"If you really are Canada, why don't you join us?" the woman smiled encouragingly.

"M-me?" stammered Matthew, bending over to pick up Kumajiro, who was clinging to his feet the entire time.

"We can still save you," the stranger went on. "Your land isn't as destroyed as the others. I mean your large wildlife populations are in vivid contrast to America's poor wildlife. You'd be an excellent addition to the team, and quite a role model."

"Didn't you try to kill us just now?"

"I never knew it was you, Canada."

Matthew stood still, eyes thoughtful. The other countries were staring at him in disbelief, and America and Australia looked horrified. Would Canada really join someone who was willing to kill them all?

"What's in it for my friends?" Matthew eventually asked, glancing pointedly at Alfred and Arthur. If he could negotiate with this lady, maybe she would allow them all to escape alive.

The stranger sighed. "Can't you see? It's about time you became independent. It's too late for them. Listen, if you join us now, we'll make you more powerful than anyone in this room."

Matthew looked down and suppressed a shiver of dread. When he looked up his dark eyes were ice cold and had the power to fight back, surprising all the countries as well as his foe.

"Like hell am I going to abandon my brothers and my founding fathers," Matthew growled strongly, voice as cold as Canadian winter air. "You can kill me if you want, but I'm going to die by _their_ side, not yours."

"Spoken like a true Canadian," Alfred murmured proudly. Arthur seemed to be listening, because he smiled in his sleep.

"Very well," the woman said, not the least bit concerned. "We might be able to change your mind—"

"_Try me_," Matthew hissed, outraged.

"—but for now…" she turned and strolled back to the door. "None of you are going to get out of this building alive."

She walked out and gently closed the double doors behind her.

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

The antagonist is an old original character by me.

That's all I will say.

Teehee~!

REVIEW! :D


	6. The First Death

_**The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive**_

**06—The First Death**

Prussia cursed and rushed after her. He reached the doors a few heartbeats before it closed. When he opened them again, she was gone. The hallway was empty.

"What the hell?" Gilbert exclaimed. "How did she…?"

"We have to get out of here," Kiku turned to the others. "She doesn't want us to escape, but surely she has not thought of us escaping through the windows." He indicated the huge windows that covered either side of the room.

"That's a good idea, Japan," Ivan said with a smile. He walked over to a window and raised his metal pipe, swinging it with all of his nation strength. Before the metal even touched the glass, there was an audible zap and the Russian staggered back, stunned.

"What happened?" Matthew yelped. His eyes were wide in fright.

"It's some kind of… force field," explained Alfred slowly. "Like a barrier…"

"…ma… gic..."

Alfred nearly leapt out of his chair—if it weren't for the other country lying on top of him. Arthur stirred and looked at Ivan. With his head still resting on the American's shoulder, Arthur took a deep, shaky breath and explained.

"I can… feel this building being surrounded in some kind of… spell," Arthur staggered to his feet, using Alfred's shoulder for support. "It's eating at my strength. The ambush was a diversion. I could feel the barrier being put in place while I was fighting. They meant to keep us all occupied so that way none of us could get out."

"Keep us all occupied—wait," France's blue eyes flickered in suspicion. "Why didn't they just set the barrier while we were all fighting during the meeting?"

"Because of me, for one thing," Matthew whispered, and for once everyone strained to hear him. "The only reason why I pay more attention to everything is because I never get caught up in your conversations. The second reason is that it's better to kill off the countries one by one; or at least in small groups," he gestured to the thirteen countries gathered in the room. "And what's the logic in that?" he answered his question in a monotone. "Start with the world's most powerful nations."

They all looked at each other and realised the Canadian was right. Fear chilled their hearts, but they did not let it show. A tense silence followed, only to be broken by Gilbert.

"Er... guys...Come and see this."

Alfred leaped out of the chair and rushed over, forgetting about Arthur, who stood swaying with fatigue. Canada and Australia shadowed their older brother while the other countries gathered more slowly. Prussia was pointing at a set of bloody tracks that lead to the main foyer, and then disappeared. They had the shape of an animal's paw prints. Romano sneered and stared at Matthew.

"Those are probably tracks from the bear," he growled, nodding at the white bear in Matthew's arms. "There's no need to worry, bastard."

Matthew looked slightly offended, but didn't bother defending himself. Instead, he kneeled down next to Gilbert and examined the tracks. After a while, he lifted his head, eyes clouded.

"These are wolf tracks," rasped Matthew, unable to believe it. "How did a wolf get in here?"

Before anyone could answer, a loud bang echoed through the hall. The group jumped, startled, and Canada shot to his feet, arrow to his bow.

At the far end of the hallway, past the lobby and opposite the conference room, a lone man was standing, facing the countries with his hands in his jacket pockets. He was younger than the woman, but old enough to oppose thirteen countries on his own. He wore blue jeans, a white shirt and a black spring windbreaker jacket. His hair was black and slicked back with hair gel. His eyes were dark blue, so dark they looked black.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Alfred stepped forward to stand next to his brother, gun pointed at the intruder.

"I should be asking what are _you_ here for?" the stranger replied in a gravelly voice.

"For the world conference, of course," Francis said, looking sceptical.

"That's not what I was told," the stranger said with a wicked smirk. "I was told that you are all here to die."

The group tensed, readying their weapons for a fight.

The stranger reached into his windbreaker, and then sliced his hand out in a blur. A silver object shot from his hand and struck Australia. The country howled in pain and collapsed. Matthew shouted in concern, dropped Kumajiro, and darted to his brother's side. Alfred cursed and started shooting, but the enemy was too fast, dodging the bullets effortlessly. He advanced slowly; taking his time dodging all attacks aimed at him, and then threw more metal objects.

Four of the weapons missed France, Spain, Germany, and China, and all four countries ended up crashing into the people closest to them, causing confusion. In the chaos, the stranger simply slid past them and reached Canada's side. He punched the panicked country in the stomach and Matthew doubled over in pain. A quick hit to the back and Canada was down.

_Why didn't he kill me?_ Matthew thought hazily. _He had me vulnerable. Why didn't he stab me?_

The stranger swiftly gathered the disoriented Matthew onto his back and swiftly sped away despite his extra load. Alfred barked an order at the other countries and followed, letting out a defiant battle cry. He slammed the intruder into the wall of the corridor and both stranger and Canada fell to the ground heavily, with Canada landing on America. By the time the two battered brothers got to their feet, the enemy had recovered and was snarling at them.

"You won't escape!" he hissed.

Matthew and Alfred turned and ran back to the hall, with the enemy at their heels. America shot backwards without looking and there was a shout of pain. The bullet had buried itself in the man's thigh and had stopped him from running. The two countries reached the door, and the others, who had made it inside the room. Matthew looked back and cried out in horror. Australia was still lying there, unmoving, his blood seeping into the sandy-coloured carpet floor.

"No!" howled Matthew. "Why did you leave him there?"

Alfred put his arms around his brother's waist to stop him from going back. "It's no use, bro. He's dead."

Arthur, who was standing behind Alfred, noticed the injured stranger put a hand in his windbreaker. With the last of his strength, the Englishman grabbed both struggling brothers by the collars of their coats and hauled them in, slamming the door as fast as possible. A heartbeat later there was a thud as blades were buried into the opposite side of the huge doors. Matthew turned away from the doors and collapsed onto his knees on the blood-stained floor. His older brother knelt down beside him, his arm around Matthew's shoulders.

"You all came in without him?" Matthew rasped, glaring at the others and fighting back tears that had started falling down his cheeks. "What's wrong with you? Don't you care?"

"Those were knives, Mattie," Alfred tried desperately to comfort the younger country. "Australia was struck probably in the chest. There's no way he could have survived that, even as a nation."

"But he could still be alive…" sobbed Matthew. "We could've saved him."

The nations fell into a guilty silence, listening to the heartbroken cries of the youngest country.

"Well," Ludwig said, breaking the silence. "They said they would kill us. And it seems like they've started."

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

WAAAAH! Australia dieed!

Perhaps I have forgotten to mention character death in certain scenes.

Then again, did the countries check..?

**_FOR THOSE WHO HAVE READ THIS ON DEVIANTART PLEASE DO NOT GIVE SPOILERS IN YOUR REVIEWS THANK YOU!_**

asdfghjl review pleeeease~! :D


	7. The Circle of Power

_**The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive**_

**07—The Circle of Power**

France knelt next to Canada and started saying some things in the younger country's ear. The others moved away silently, not wanting to disrupt the small family gathering.

"I'll go and make pasta," North Italy piped up. "Then everything will be alright!"

"I'll come," Germany sighed. "America said the kitchens were in the backrooms."

"I will go, too," Japan added quickly, with Prussia, Romano and Spain following behind.

Russia and China, who had Kumajiro with him, followed with a last concerned glance at Canada.

"I'll go and help make some scones," England said casually, rubbing the back of his head and turning away from Canada, America, and France.

"Shouldn't you stay and help?" Russia said with a withering smile. "After all, Canada is your adopted son, da?"

"Er…" Arthur, not wanting to look like a bad parent, reluctantly headed over to his two sons and France. He grudgingly kneeled in front of Matthew, who had his head pressed to Alfred's chest. Alfred was hugging his brother and fighting back his own tears. Francis glanced at Arthur hopelessly.

"Come, now," Arthur began awkwardly. "The others are making a great worldwide feast just to make you feel better. The sun is going down and I'm getting tired. We should plan on what to do next, while there are no enemies around."

Matthew whipped his head around to glare at Arthur, but he didn't have the strength to fight, and he looked away.

"Yeah," he whispered shakily. "We should go."

The three older nations lifted Canada to his feet. He raised his bow and the arrow he still held in his hand. He never got to fire even one shot. Not even to defend his brothers. He shrugged off Alfred's grip on his shoulders and bitterly trudged to the doors that lead to the back of the building. Alfred lifted a hand and tried to call him back, but Arthur put a hand on Alfred's, shaking his head sadly. The three stood for a moment and watched Canada stumble through the devastated hall with sympathy in their eyes, and then they followed without another word.

**-C-**

_I'm standing on a lake of black water. Why am I standing on it? I tap the surface with a foot. Ripples circle around my toe, but my shoe is not wet. I'm leaning over to get a better look, but all I see is blackness. Not even a reflection._

_A low growl causes me to look up sharply._

_Now in front of me stands a huge white wolf with frost at its paws. Wherever it steps, the black water around it turns to white ice. There is a trail of whiteness behind it, fading off into the black distance. It is a path of hope in this black abyss._

_I take a step towards the white wolf, but a voice sounds in my mind._

Come no further. _ It says. _You will not reach me this way.

This way?_ I inquire._But you are right here. Surely I can come to you.

No. I am not here. I am in the other life. This is the land of shadows. We shall meet in life. And when we do, I will follow you.

_Puzzled, I reach out a hand. One more step and I can touch this wonderful animal. I take a step…_

_And now I am falling; falling in darkness. My mind is blank. I know nothing. I feel nothing. I see nothing. I am nothing…_

**-C-**

"Mattie! Mattie! Food's ready! Stop dozing and get up!"

Matthew cracked open his eyes and found himself staring right into his brother's big, sky-blue eyeball. He yelped out a word that sounded suspiciously like "Maple" and fell off the couch. Alfred, who had been on the other end of the couch, leaning over him, straightened up and laughed. Kumajiro, who was beside him, just glanced down at Canada. They were in the back room where there was a small kitchen and living space. The countries were all gathered in the living room which consisted of a couch by the wall, surrounded by four chairs around a small coffee table.

The young country whimpered and used the coffee table for support as he climbed to his feet. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. Arthur, Francis, Ivan, and Wang, the Allies, were seated on their chairs, looking at him in sympathy. He smiled at them and whispered something barely audible, then looked past them.

There were three doors leading into the room, each guarded. One led to the main conference room, one led to the storage rooms, and the other was always locked. America had said that it led to the basement, but no one had seen it, or cared. All three doors were guarded. Prussia leaned heavily on the main door. He locked eyes with Canada and grinned. Spain was polishing his axe by the door to the storage room, alert and tense. Italy's brother Romano was sprawled on the floor by the last door, dozing. The Axis team were in the kitchen area, helping Italy clean up.

"Was I… sleeping?" Matthew muttered to himself. He didn't even remember falling asleep, or even reaching the couch for that matter.

"More like sleep walking," Alfred teased, getting up and clapping his brother on the back. "Come on. Now that you're awake, we can all eat."

The dining table was in the kitchen area and seated six people. Plates of pasta, sushi, meat, vegetables, noodles, and all kinds of other foods were placed on the table, with barely room left for plates.

"I apologize for the inconvenience," Kiku bowed slightly. "You are going to have to hold your plates; there is no room for all of us to sit at the table."

"Wait," interrupted Matthew as the others—except for Prussia, Spain, and Romano—gathered around the table of food.

"What is it, Mattie?" Alfred looked up from reaching for a burger. "Is something wrong?"

"Ah… No," he replied, blushing. "It's just… I want all of you to stand in a circle around the table for a moment. I… want to say something."

Alfred directed the other countries around, and took a place beside his brother at the head of the table. When all was silent, Matthew lifted his head proudly and began.

"Today is Thanksgiving Day among my people," Canada said strongly. "I just want to thank my family, for being there for me," his eyes flickered pointedly to America, and the older country seemed ready to burst with pride. "And also thanks to the rest of you. Thank you all for this amazing feast. I've never had a Thanksgiving dinner like this before. I give thanks for my land and people, and I hope you all are thankful too. I thank Australia for…" his voice cracked and he swallowed. "…for giving his life fighting. Most of all I'm grateful that we're all together right now. I know we can all get out of here alive. From this moment, we'll leave no one behind."

The others were silent for a moment, and then America spoke up.

"Well I'm grateful for my brother and…" he locked eyes with Arthur, across from him, and needn't say more.

Matthew smiled and gripped his brother's hand tightly. All around the circle the countries began to add a few personal things, joining hands unconsciously. When it came back to Canada, the circle was complete. Romano and Spain had even joined in beside Italy and the other Axis. Prussia stood by his own door, smiling at the circle of temporary friendship the world's most powerful nations just made. As soon as Canada and Russia, the final country in the circle, joined hands, there was a jolt of power that ran through everyone around the table. Every single nation was connected, every power joined to form one great, endless circle of world power, enough to destroy practically anything. The countries relished the moment. Each of them was equal, and more powerful than they ever had been before.

"Are you guys done?" Prussia interrupted after a while, slightly concerned; he could swear they were all glowing. "I'm waiting for us to eat, so I can end my shift here."

Canada let go of America and Russia and the chain of immense power broke.

"Y-yeah," stammered Matthew. "Let's eat. Sorry about that."

The countries mingled and chatted, commenting on the food and talking about the day's events. Surprisingly, for about two hours since their encounter with the stranger, nothing wrong happened, until there was the ring of someone's phone. The entire crowd fell dead silent and all eyes turned to Canada. Trembling, he put his plate on the coffee table and checked the caller ID.

"I don't know who it is," he said slowly, hugging Kumajiro close to him. "I'm going to put it on the table with the volume loud enough for everyone to hear."

He did so, and pressed talk.

"Hello, countries of the world," the voice of the woman rose from the phone. "Are you ready to play a game?"

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

I'll stop here for now and start updating my other account. Just to let some of you know, I started this story out on DeviantART so now it's way farther ahead there than it is here (so no spoilers if you know what's about to happen!). Some of my friends suggested I make an account on Fanfiction and post the story up here. So... here I am. :P I think 15 chapters are up on DA and it's about time I put up the 16th.

Now, if you want this one to catch up, you'd better review! XD


	8. The Game

**_The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive_**

**08—The Game**

"A g-game?" stuttered Matthew, and then he cleared his throat and spoke stronger. "What game do you wish to play, and maybe we'll consider."

"Pfft, NOT," Alfred leaned over his brother's seat, bringing his face next to Matthew's and speaking to the phone, "as if we'll ever listen to you."

Matthew and Arthur shot Alfred glares, warning him to shut up. The American shrugged.

"You will soon discover that you do not have a choice," the woman replied as the group gathered slowly around Matthew and his phone. "We know where you are. We know what you are doing. We are watching your every—"

"She's worse than France," Arthur mumbled. Francis came up behind the Englishman and smacked him on the back of the head.

"I heard that!" the voice on the phone snapped. Then it turned sweet. "It will be a game of chess. All of us are the pieces. I will be the king piece for my side. Canada will be the king for yours."

There was silence as all eyes turned to look at the stunned young country.

"What are the rules?" Germany said slowly.

"Ah. I see you are interested," the voice mocked, "very well. Either side must take their opponent's 'king' back alive. If you manage to capture me, I will let you all out of here. You have my word."

"Bullshit," spat Romano.

"On the other hand, if we capture Canada, we kill the rest of you. No questions asked. No mercy."

"What do you want from me?" Matthew wailed. "Why are you going through all this trouble to get me? Leave them alone!"

"Our purpose must be for your ears only, Canada," the woman said smoothly. "We shall tell you _when_ we have you."

"When…" murmured Arthur warily.

"I believe it is fair game, don't you?" she continued cheerfully. "Oh, and there's another thing. We are not responsible for any injuries on your behalf. So if one of you dies before either side wins, it's not our problem."

"That's not fair, aru!" protested China.

"Life is never fair, is it? But what I'm offering is fair," the enemy replied. "It's as far as I'm willing to go in this game. How about you?"

"Why don't we all surren—" Italy began slowly, then Germany grabbed Italy and put a hand over his mouth.

"Shut up!" Ludwig hissed into Feliciano's ear.

All the countries looked at each other, uncertain.

"Give us fifteen minutes to decide," Japan said, leaning over to speak at the phone.

"I will call back," the enemy replied evenly. "It won't make a difference. I'm still watching you."

She hung up.

There was a moment of intense silence as everyone thought about the offer. One choice meant freedom, the other meant death for all. And it depended on whether or not the enemy could capture Canada.

"It's not fair at all," Arthur reasoned. "She's trying to trick us. Remember her little disappearing act? How are we supposed to catch someone we can't see?"

"She's still bound to send someone to find us and get Canada," Alfred argued hotly. "We could follow them to her…"

"We'll get killed if we do that recklessly," Kiku replied evenly.

"Our best choice is to defend Canada," said Gilbert gruffly. "At least while he's alive, we can make sure all of us are."

"…Prussia…" Matthew looked around at the others, who were nodding slowly in agreement.

"But then how will we get to the woman?" Francis put in. "If we stay here guarding Canada, no one will ever win."

"We have to answer the first question," growled Ludwig. "Are we playing this game or not?"

There was a slight hesitation, and then everyone nodded confidently, giving small murmurs of assent. Feliciano, the only one who didn't really have a clue what was happening, looked around and nodded happily.

"Wait!" Matthew protested, leaping to his feet and facing his audience as Kumajiro tumbled to the floor. "You're all going to die if you try to defend me. Don't you understand? She may not be able to get me, but she'll kill every one of you one by one until we surrender." He blinked back tears and swallowed hard. "I don't want that to happen."

"But if we say no, she'll kill us all anyways, aru," China pointed out.

"And a Hero wouldn't ever give up without a fight first!" America announced, and then put an arm around his brother's shoulder. "And when we fight, I'm fighting beside you!"

Matthew bit his lip and twisted out of his grip, turning his back to them and running to the door to the main conference hall. Alfred watched him go with surprise, then shouted at his brother and ran after him when he realised what Matthew was about to do.

"Mattie…" Alfred muttered seriously. "Canada. I know what you're thinking. Don't do it. I don't want to lose you."

"If I can somehow exchange myself for your lives, I won't have to watch you die," whispered Matthew.

"But then I'd be alone," Alfred murmured. "Who's going to play catch with me? And play pranks on England? Share ice cream? And build… Oh. Hey. Are you crying?"

Matthew shook his head, but the tears were clearly running down his cheeks. Alfred smiled and pulled his little brother into his arms. He wiped Matthew's wet cheeks and laughed softly.

"Don't cry, Mattie," Alfred whispered. "I'll always be beside you. We're brothers."

Matthew screwed his eyes tightly to stop the tears, and then squeezed his brother in a hug as if America were Kumajiro. The older country stayed still, enjoying the moment he and Canada shared, and then tried to guide his brother back to the group, but the younger nation refused to move.

"Hey, now," Alfred said cheerfully. "Don't be like that. The Hero always wins, you know that!"

"Heh, heh," Matthew smirked, trying to lighten his mood. "You may be the Hero," he said, looking up with his big, indigo-blue eyes, "but I'm always on top."

Alfred looked into Matthew's eyes in surprise and confusion, and then burst out laughing when he understood.

"Leave the jokes to me, little brother," Alfred laughed.

They had returned to the bickering countries when Canada's phone suddenly rang.

"Do you have an answer?" the voice demanded when he picked up.

Before Matthew could say anything, Alfred grabbed the phone and snarled.

"Yeah, we have an answer, bitch," America growled angrily, putting all his rage and hatred into his voice. "We're playing your stupid game. And we're gonna win."

* * *

><p>Make someone angry, hmm, America?<p>

Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya

I dedicate this set of chapters to_** XxTenshIxX97** _my second reviewer. Thanks a lot for reading and I'll make sure I include a lot of USUK for you ;)

Oh and Canada's little joke? Look at a map of North America. It wasn't meant to be inappropriate but... XD

REVIEW! :D


	9. The Plan: Second Arc

_**The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive**_

_**Arc #2: The Key**_

**09—The Plan**

Alfred hung up and tossed the phone onto the table, ignoring his brother's horrified expression. He faced the other countries and looked at them with blazing blue eyes. No one had ever seen America so angry before.

"Alright, since I'm the Hero and this is my home, I'll take command," he announced, then nodded his head at the door Romano was guarding. "See that door over there? That leads to the basement, but it's always locked. The key is in one of the other rooms, but if we retrieve it, we can make a safe camp there." He pointed to the other door where Spain stood. "That's the storage room. There's about a half year's supply of food in there for all of us. It's not locked, so we're gonna have to keep an eye on it."

"So you're suggesting we split up," Arthur said thoughtfully.

"So some of us can get the key and the others stay behind to keep this place safe," Kiku added.

"Well, I'm going to go after the enemy," growled Ludwig. "We can't ignore her."

"Then I'm going with Germany!" Feliciano said, waving his white flag.

"Yeah let all of the Axis go and leave us Allies alone," Francis sneered.

"This isn't the time to be starting a war!" snapped Arthur.

"I wasn't talking to you," Francis retorted.

"Stop…" Matthew whispered, but everyone ignored him. Kumajiro tugged at the young country's sleeve and pointed to something behind him. Matthew whimpered as a pair of strong hands grabbed his shoulders and warm breath tickled his ear.

"Shut up and let me handle this," Prussia muttered, flashing the younger country a sharp-toothed grin.

"Maple…" Canada whispered, then spoke louder, "wait!"

"Hey," Gilbert growled, then cleared his throat and roared. "HEY!"

The arguing died down as everyone glanced at Prussia. He was holding the trembling Canada close to him encouragingly. Matthew could see a spark of anger and what looked like jealousy in Alfred's eyes.

"You don't realise what's going on here," Gilbert said gruffly. "They're all after Canada. They won't care if we end up killing each other. If we're all going to survive, we're going to have to work together, whether we like it or not."

"I still say we split up," Ludwig snapped at his brother. "I'm not working with _them_," he glared at England, France, and America in disgust.

"Well, I wouldn't mind if you did that," Arthur spat furiously. "I would rather work alone anyways."

"Stop it!"

The quarrelling countries turned to look back at Canada and Prussia, looking guilty that they had resulted in upsetting the young country. Matthew had his head buried into the older nation's chest, trying furiously to stop crying. Gilbert rubbed Matthew's shoulders awkwardly, trying to comfort him and blushing visibly.

"Er… Canada…" Gilbert smiled sheepishly as Matthew turned back to the others, blinking.

"I... I don't want you to split up," he said shakily. "If any of you go, then there's no guarantee that you'll come back. You don't know what they're going to do to you." He sighed. "At least let me come with you, America, to get the key. Then if they attack us, I can try to bargain with them and save you."

"Hell no," Alfred replied firmly. "You're staying here, where the others can keep an eye on you. I'm going alone. At least then I don't have anyone slowing me down. Plus if anyone goes missing, it will only be me."

"Oh, no," Arthur scowled. "I didn't raise you only to throw your life away for a key, you bloody git. I'm coming with you. And I also want to see if I can get my magic back. The barriers aren't the only things sapping my strength and I'm going to see for myself what's really going on around here."

"You'll only slow me down, Arth," replied Alfred coldly. "You're not at your strongest, you said it yourself. There's no way I'm bringing an old man like you with me."

"Excuse—"

"Hey, think about it this way," Ivan interrupted Arthur smoothly. "At least it means England won't have to cook for us, kol, kol."

Alfred stared at the Russian while the others nodded vigorously. Arthur turned to Ivan in confusion.

"What—"

"Alright, that's it, you're coming with me," Alfred laughed as he grabbed Arthur's wrist and pulled him towards the door to the conference room.

"Let go of me you bloody—!"

"America!"

Alfred looked over his shoulder at his brother and flashed him a wide grin and a thumbs-up.

"Stay here, lil' bro," Alfred said with a wink. "I'll be back soon! I promise!"

Matthew tore away from Gilbert and shouted, but was drowned out by Arthur.

"I demand you tell me what Russia meant!" he was snarling, followed by Alfred's high laughter. "What did he mean by—hey! America!"

The door slammed closed and Matthew collapsed back into Prussia's arms.

Arthur and Alfred were gone.

* * *

><p>...And thus, the second arc is born.<p>

Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya

PruCan and USUK people! You saw it all coming! XD I'm warning you for the next few chapters, too.

Do not hit me for all this fluffiness ^^;

Please review! And be nice! Even though I wasn't very nice to Iggy in this chapter/bricked/


	10. The Disappearance

** _The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive_ **

**10—The Disappearance**

**~~Canada~~**

_Here. Again._

_How long has it been since I saw my brother? Where did he go? Is he alright?_

…_So many questions._

_Why did he leave me alone…?_

_Here. Alone._

_Eh? Hey. Am I crying?_

_Oh yeah. I don't want to be alone._

You are quite a pathetic nation, are you not?

_Who is that? Are you talking to me?_

Yes, you. Heh. You_ are_ pathetic.

_And standing before me is the white wolf._

Have you come back just to taunt me? _I accuse out loud, although I've figured already that it can read my mind. _Are you going to force me to chase you around this place?

I am here to help.

Then help us!_ I plead. _We're trapped and all you can do is just stand there?

I_ am _helping_ the wolf insisted. _You did not want to be alone. But you are not alone.

Yes I am, _I reply._ No one ever notices me. I'm always alone; an afterthought; forgotten.

_I kneel down and put my head in my hands. I can't go after the wolf, and if I move, I'll fall again. _

_I'm trapped. And there's no one to help me. What the hell? What am I even doing here?_

Then if you are alone, who are you talking to?

_I realise I've been speaking out loud. Or perhaps the wolf just read my thoughts. __I__ look up just as soft, frosty fur brushes my neck and tickles my nose__._

I am here,_ the wolf whispered._ You are the True North. You are never alone.

_I surrender into the white fur and bury myself in the blissful coldness. I imagine being lost in Kumajiro's soft bear fur. That's how wonderful it feels, only colder. The wolf drags its warm, wet tongue across my cheek and over my ear. I respond by gently breathing into the frosty fur. It feels perfectly normal._

I will always be with you, _the wolf says__. _I stand on guard for thee, my home. Canada.

**~~America~~**

Arthur stood watching Alfred as the American stood in front of him, unusually quiet, staring at the double doors that opened into the corridor where Australia was killed. He stepped forward and gripped the taller man on the shoulder. Alfred stiffened, but didn't turn around.

"Yo man, we'd better go," Alfred laughed, trying to be cheerful. "The sooner we go, the sooner we can get back."

"You should apologise to Canada," Arthur said quietly. "He was really upset. I don't think you should've left him right after we lost Australia."

"Australia is our brother, too. Besides, I'm surprised you could tell with all that shouting you were doing back there," sniffed Alfred, as he avoided the subject warily.

Arthur's emerald eyes flared up defiantly. "Well I deserve the right to know—"

"The keys are in the office on the other side of the hallway," Alfred said, ignoring Arthur's outburst. "Hopefully the enemy hasn't taken them yet."

"They're probably waiting there to kill us by now, since you said it out loud, bloody bastard," muttered Arthur darkly. "Besides the office, is there anywhere else we could explore before we get back? I still want to search for the source that's draining my magic."

"There is a door leading into the stairwell nearby the office," Alfred murmured as he tried to remember the layout of the building. "The stairs go up to the fourth floor. The elevator by the stairs will take you to the roof. They both go to the parking garage, but I think the enemies put a barrier around them so we can't go out that way. The basement leads beneath the parking garage, I think. I'm not really sure, though, because I haven't been down there."

"You know this place well," commented Arthur.

Alfred's blue eyes flickered for a moment. "Of course, it's practically my home."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Then how come we don't hold meetings here more often?"

"I like having world meetings in larger areas, like this one," said Alfred distractedly. "But this is only temporary." He avoided Arthur's questioning glare and turned, walking through the blood-splattered room towards the doors.

Arthur scowled, looked around the room, and froze.

"America!"

He dashed up to the taller nation, eyes darting around the room in paranoia. Alfred turned swiftly and grabbed Arthur's shoulders tightly, forcing him to calm down.

"What's wrong?"

"Look around," hissed Arthur. "Wasn't this place littered with all those bloody enemies we killed?"

Alfred's blue eyes scanned the room slowly, like an eagle searching for prey. The room was still stained with blood, but the dead bodies of the assassins they had killed earlier had disappeared. The American hissed a string of curses under his breath and sprinted to the double doors, flinging them wide open.

The corridor was splattered with blood from the earlier battle, but besides that the place was clean. The assassin America had shot was gone.

Australia was gone.

"Shit," Alfred snarled.

"I'm guessing you know what this means," Arthur stated quietly as he moved to stand by America.

"Yeah," growled Alfred. "Those damn crazy nation-trappers are up to something."

England moved closer to America, looking around warily.

"This doesn't look good."

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

The points of veiw are going to start switching a lot between Canada and America, so I put labels to seperate the different points of veiws.

I will also add in a third point of veiw in the third arc, so you can guess who that might be...

Reveiw please! :3


	11. The Kiss

**_The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive_ **

**11—The Kiss**

**~~America~~**

The American walked quietly down the corridor, avoiding blood-stained spots warily. His companion followed behind him, amazed at how silent it was. Never before had America been so quiet, or looked so scared.

They stopped at the spot where the corridor intersected with the main one. To the left was the main entrance to the building. There was a faint buzz sounding from the doors, and Arthur could feel the strength of the magic of the barrier. He suppressed a shiver. There was no way they could get out. He glanced to the right. The corridor extended farther into the building, fading into darkness. A chill ran down Arthur's spine and he decided not to ask America why it had no lights. Turning to face forward, he saw the door at the end of the corridor ahead of them. Their goal seemed miles away, and he felt as if his legs wouldn't move. A firm hand gripped his shoulder and he stiffened.

"Relax," Alfred muttered. "The hero will protect you." He glanced down at the older nation and forced a grin.

Arthur fought back a sharp retort and started to walk down the corridor with Alfred at his side. Tense silence descended upon the companions as they crept past the main hallway and towards the office.

As the two countries passed by the door to the staircase, Arthur felt a tingling in his spine. Curious, he pulled away from America and turned towards the door on his left. He touched the handle—and a burning pain jolted up his arm. The Brit's emerald eyes widened in shock and agony and his mouth opened in a silent scream. He collapsed to his knees in front of the door to the staircase, clutching his pounding head in both hands.

"Arthur!" Alfred exclaimed, rushing to his friend's side. He kneeled next to Arthur and shook him frantically, but received no reply. Panic fluttered in Alfred's chest as he looked around wildly in despair, unsure of what to do.

The Brit screwed his eyes shut, trying to fight back the pain. He felt constricted, as if something was wrapped around his chest, crushing his body, his ribs, his heart. He knew nothing except for that burning pain; didn't know that Alfred was shouting his name in his ear. Arthur just wanted to give up and die.

_But that is just what the enemy wants, _a tiny voice said in his mind._ If you give up now, who will protect America?_

Memories rushed into the Brit's mind in a wave, taking his mind away from the pain. Gradually, as if the power behind it had given up, the constriction in his chest and the pounding in his head subsided. Arthur let the memories of him and America sooth him, and he relaxed. But he still refused to move, in fear that the pain would come again.

"Get up, Britain."

The voice was clear, but Arthur did not recognise it.

"I know you're okay."

_Leave me alone._

Suddenly, without warning, Arthur's head was tilted up and warm lips met his in a tentative but passionate kiss.

The Englishman's eyes snapped open in bewilderment and he found himself looking into a pair of bright blue eyes. Alfred pulled away and smiled grimly at his companion. Arthur sat back, staring at the American, dumbstruck.

"I had to snap you out of it somehow," explained Alfred.

When no reply came, the American shrugged and began to rise. Arthur grabbed his wrist and roughly pulled him back down. Alfred stumbled and landed on top of the Brit. They stared into each other's eyes. Both looked equally shocked at what Arthur had done.

"No…" Arthur pleaded softly, "one more."

He slid his arms around America's neck and drew his face closer to Alfred's. Again their lips locked, and their eyes closed as they savoured the moment. Arthur's tongue slipped into Alfred's mouth and the younger nation moaned in pleasure, begging for more. As the American ran his fingers through Arthur's soft, golden hair, The Brit leaned back against the wall, allowing Alfred to take control, wishing they could stay in the embrace forever.

But in their minds, both knew that going into the office may cost them their lives. They knew that the moment they shared could be their last together.

After taking some time to explore each other's mouths, the two countries broke apart. They stared at one another, panting for breath, not quite believing what they did. England was the first to look away, feeling guilty that he had wasted so much of their time.

"I-I'm sorry," Arthur stammered, blushing visibly. "We should go."

He scrambled to his feet, but Alfred grabbed his arm firmly. Their eyes met again. Alfred looked serious, and Arthur suddenly knew what he was about to say.

"Britain," America said evenly. "I just want you to know that I love you. Whatever happens, I want to die beside you, knowing that you love me, too."

"None of us is going to die," mumbled Arthur, avoiding the question the American was implying.

Alfred ignored the statement. "Do you?"

"Yes," Arthur breathed softly. Alfred let him go and the connection between them snapped.

The Brit turned and strode confidently to the end of the hallway as if nothing happened, throwing a stinging comment over his shoulder.

"But you can be such an idiot sometimes."

Alfred leapt to his feet, letting out a sharp exclamation of protest. He bounded over to the older nation and shoved him playfully, laughing softly. Arthur staggered, turning his head away to hide another blush.

The companions reached the door and froze in their tracks.

"Well..?" Arthur murmured expectantly. "Are you going to take the lead, Hero?"

Alfred gulped, cold sweat breaking on his brow as he reached for his gun. "Might as well," he glanced nervously at Arthur. "Back me up."

"Of course."

Without another word, Alfred gripped the doorknob in his sweaty hand, turned it, and pushed it wide open. He stepped back and raised his gun, and Arthur drew a sharp breath, spell words on his tongue.

The office was empty.

But the room was splattered with fresh, red blood.

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

I just had to do it! Sorry!

HAHA! That's all for tonight folks!

REVIEW FOR MORE! Or I might not post at all~! ;P


	12. The Agreement

**_The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive_**

**12—The Agreement**

**~~Canada~~**

Canada stared up at the ceiling, his indigo-blue eyes refusing to close.

The room was dark, and the sounds of deep breathing and heavy snoring rippled through the air. Someone had laid him on the floor, and then the other countries went to sleep around him, making a protective ring around him in case something was to happen. Matthew felt safe, and he trusted each of the other countries with his life.

But he still couldn't sleep.

Matthew forced himself not to toss and turn, for fear of waking the other nations, but he couldn't lie still for much longer. Delicately and with the ghostly silence he possessed for years, Canada stood up and stretched on his spot.

"Can't sleep?"

The young country jolted in surprise and fear, but as he glanced over his shoulder, all he could see was Prussia's pale, crimson eyes gleaming in the darkness, accompanied by his sharp-toothed grin.

"No," Matthew replied quietly. He stepped carefully over a softly snoring Spain, who was sprawled on the floor next to Romano. Even in their sleep, Spain appeared to be pulling Romano to him, but the Italian had his foot in the Spanish man's stomach, preventing him from getting any closer. Matthew stifled a laugh and joined Prussia on the couch. Again, he was standing guard over everyone else.

"'Oh Canada, we stand on guard for thee,'" Gilbert sang softly as the younger country sat down.

Matthew glanced at the old nation in surprise.

"You know my national anthem?" he whispered, startled.

"Of course I do!" the Prussian laughed softly. "Who doesn't?"

"Everyone else who didn't know I existed until now," muttered Canada dryly.

Gilbert looked away in embarrassment, lapsing into an awkward silence. After a while, Matthew sighed and slowly leaned onto the Prussian, resting his head on the older nation's shoulder.

"Why did America leave…?" the Canadian muttered to himself.

"Let him do what he wants to do," Gilbert advised with a small chuckle to himself. "That's what my brother does with me."

"But without my brother I feel so alone," whimpered Matthew, trying not to sound like he was whining.

Gilbert's red eyes flared in the darkness. "What are you talking about? Are you saying I'm not here with you right now?"

"Eh?" exclaimed Matthew, pushing himself away from Gilbert to look into his eyes. "Of course you're here!"

"Then you're not alone," the Prussian said softly, wrapping his arms gently around the smaller man, pulling him closer. "Look around. They're all still here, right? They didn't abandon you." He rubbed the young nation's back, trying to ease the tension in Matthew's body. "We're all with you, Canada. You will never be alone."

"But what if—" Matthew's voice was muffled as the older nation brushed one hand over his mouth. Gilbert smiled gently, his red eyes staring deep into Matthew's indigo eyes hypnotically.

"Don't say things that won't happen," Gilbert murmured with a hint of tension in his voice. "I don't want to hear them, and neither do you."

Matthew nodded in agreement and Prussia pulled his hand away, resting it on Canada's shoulder. The younger country threw his arms around the Prussian man's waist and buried himself in the older nation's chest. Gilbert lay down on the couch, allowing the Canadian to lie on top of him. Both nations lay in silence, and eventually Matthew fell asleep, still clinging onto Gilbert.

A while later, Gilbird, Prussia's tiny companion, slipped from his shoulder and fluttered down to peck at Antonio's head. The Spanish man grumbled as he struggled awake to take his turn to guard. Propping himself up on his elbows, he looked over his shoulder at Gilbert, lying on the couch with the slumbering Matthew in his arms.

"Ssh," the Prussian hissed softly at Antonio, and then flicked his red eyes to look at the chair by the couch. Spain nodded in understanding and crept over to the chair, his belly aching where South Italy's foot was digging into him.

Antonio settled himself on the chair and glanced at Gilbert. The Prussian was running his hand through Matthew's hair, his red eyes clouded with thoughts. With a hand still on the young country's head, Prussia curled around Canada protectively and closed his eyes. Spain focused his attention on the main door, allowing his mind to wander. Slowly, his lips curled into a smile.

**-C-**

Teach me to fight.

_The white wolf stares at me in what seems to be shock. This is the first time I get to see its eyes clearly. Red eyes, as bright and dangerous as Prussia's, look deep into my eyes. I try not to collapse under its powerful gaze._

I want to be able to protect my friends as well as myself.

You are a country, and one of the most powerful, if I recall correctly, _the wolf growls softly._ Why must you learn from me?

Never have I learned from such a great creature before.

_Yeah, I know. Stupid excuse_.

_The wolf looks slightly flattered and I smile. It shakes itself and pads up to me, its eyes asking me to bend down to face it. I kneel before the wolf and it nods as if in satisfaction._

Very well, _it replies gr__uffly. _I will teach you—on one condition.

What?

You must promise to help your foes to save the world.

WHAT!

_I can't believe what I just heard. Help the very people who want to destroy all my friends and use me to get what they want? Never!_

You know I won't agree, _I nearly snarl at the wolf, surprising myself and the wolf with my ferocity._

Then if you disagree to that, can you do another thing for me? _The wolf is practically pleading with me._

What do you want?_ I whisper, expecting the worst._

Give me a name.

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

lol PruCan can be so cute! :D

Dedicated to_** Optimistically-Hopeless**_; Awesome person, Awesome convos! Thank you for reviewing!

NOW REVIEW! XD


	13. The Office

**_The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive_**

**13—The Office**

**~~America~~**

"Wh-What happened here?" the American stammered in shock, his blue eyes wide in bewilderment and horror.

Arthur shouldered past his companion and stepped into the middle of the room, doing a full three-sixty degree turn, scanning up and down for enemies. Then he closed his eyes and hummed faintly.

"What are you..?" began Alfred, starting to walk forwards, but the Brit raised his hand, tense with concentration.

Alfred hesitated and decided to stay where he was. Something wet dripped onto his forehead and slid down his face. He looked up and shuddered. Blood had been splashed thickly over the ceiling, dripping down like rain as it dried. He wiped his face in disgust, but only caused the blood to smear across his face and hand. After a quick glance at his bloodied hand, he shoved it into a pocket, afraid to look at it.

A whimper escaped from the small man before him and the American rushed to his side. Arthur was shivering, as if he was cold, and he was hugging himself, his hands clutching his sides so hard, his knuckles were white. Alfred reached forward to help, but at the same time, Arthur cried out and doubled over in pain. The American caught him before he fell, and the Brit's eyes flew open.

"Pain, violence, fear…" he mumbled under his breath, emerald eyes wide and unfocused.

"Arthur, it's okay," murmured Alfred, thinking that the Englishman looked a little insane.

"No, you don't understand," Arthur gasped, staring at Alfred in fear. "Just a few moments ago, there were people in here, torturing two others. Their blood… Only a high degree of inhumane violence could create such a mess, America."

Alfred looked around at the blood that dripped from the ceiling onto the ground. The chairs and the desk had red liquid spilled across their hard surfaces. The white walls were smeared with bloody handprints, as if the victims had been scrabbling blindly for a way out. He glanced back at Arthur and pulled the smaller man closer to him. What kind of horror had he dragged his friend into? He should never have listened to Russia!

"I can feel the terror and the agony of the victims," England was saying. "It's thick in the air, like fog. Oh, America! If only we were here earlier, we could have saved whoever had fallen prey to these monsters!"

"How?" growled Alfred wretchedly. "We don't even know who was in here! It can't be one of us; we were all in the other room the entire time!"

"Except for…" Arthur trailed off and his gaze cleared.

"No," Alfred hissed, his face paling at the thought. "Australia was dead."

"We don't know that," said Arthur quietly.

"Then if he was here, who was the second person!"

"Perhaps another country that did not make it out in time."

"I don't buy it."

"It's only a suggestion, idiot!"

"No it isn't," snapped Alfred. "It's a conclusion. We're jumping to conclusions and we're wasting time."

Arthur realised how childish his argument sounded, and shamefully fell silent.

Alfred, who was still holding the smaller country in his arms, impatiently shoved the Brit away from him and spun around. Arthur stumbled and landed against a chair, quickly pulling away from the blood, but already his back and sides were stained dark red. He stared at the stains stupidly, as if wondering where the blood had come from, then tore his gaze away from his clothes and focused his attention on Alfred.

The American was opening and closing drawers, rummaging through them as he tried to find the set of keys that contained the one leading to the basement. He looked all over the room, until his hands were sticky with blood. Then he straightened and stared at the Brit in despair.

"I can't find it…" Alfred said desperately, running a blood-covered hand through his hair absentmindedly in frustration. Arthur winced at the stains Alfred left in his hair.

Suddenly the American jumped, his eyes sparkling as an idea came to him. The same thought ran through the Englishman's mind and his eyes widened. Both countries dropped onto the floor and peered under the desk.

There, on the floor, was a key holder. Five different keys were attached and covered in dust.

"I got it," America grunted, and he flattened himself onto the floor, reaching his hand through the small space to get the keys. Arthur lay on his belly, watching Alfred's progress.

The moment his hand touched the keys, he jerked his hand back and both men leaped to their feet in triumph. They looked at each other, clothes ragged and covered in blood, but their eyes were bright and determined. Finally they had accomplished something!

Alfred turned to race back the way they had come and unlock the door so he could take his brother to a place where he knew it would be safe, but Arthur grabbed his wrist and tugged him back.

"Wait a minute," Arthur muttered. "Don't you think we ought to solve this mystery first?" He gestured at the room.

The American's eyes flickered as he imagined the horrors that could be awaiting them elsewhere. All he wanted was to get back to safety and out of the cursed room.

"You're scared," stated Arthur with a sigh of disappointment, and dropped his friend's hand crossly. "Very well. I'm going myself. I have other business to attend to anyway, like getting my full powers back."

Arthur pushed past Alfred and out the door, blinking back tears of betrayal, disappointment, and frustration. The American hesitated, his face burning with shame and guilt at leaving Arthur alone. He looked up and blinked, his eyes blazing with determination.

America hurried after England and caught his shoulder, turning the smaller man around and hugging him tightly, careful not to crush him. The Englishman gasped in surprise and the taller man smirked.

"Arthur," murmured Alfred. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm coming with you," the American replied. "What if you fell down again and couldn't get up?"

Arthur hesitated, and then looked up with a smile. "I guess you'd better come, so you can kiss me awake."

America smirked. "You want another one?"

The Brit replied by reaching up and tilting the American's head down so their lips could meet. Alfred gently touched Arthur's chin and parted his jaws so he could slip his tongue inside the small man's mouth. Arthur moaned and pulled Alfred closer.

The hallway echoed with their muffled groans of pleasure as they stood alone in their bloodstained clothes and ruffled hair, enjoying their own moment together. Forgetting about the other ten countries trapped with them, forgetting about the enemies that hunted them, forgetting about the past and the future, they stayed in the embrace, allowing themselves to be distracted from reality for a time.

Slowly, they pulled away from each other, gasping for air. Alfred licked up the saliva that had dripped from Arthur's mouth and down his neck. The smaller man shivered in ecstasy as he fought the urge to unbutton Alfred's shirt and do the same to the taller man. Instead, he pulled away from Alfred's warm embrace and smoothed his hair and clothes, forcing his breath to slow.

"Let's go," Arthur said curtly, moving closer to the staircase and hesitating at the door.

"Scared?" taunted Alfred.

"In your dreams you bloody git!" the Brit retorted defiantly.

The American laughed. "Then come on!"

He held Arthur's hand in his own and pushed the door open with the other.

Suddenly, something grabbed their collars and pulled them into the staircase. Both countries blacked out and knew nothing more.

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

Oooh What's gonna happen to them now, I wonder? :3

I'm stopping here for now! Review and I might post more really soon! XD


	14. The Betrayal

**_The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive_**

**14—The Betrayal**

**~~Canada~~**

"Getting closer now, _mes__ amis_?"

Matthew opened his eyes only to find himself face-to-face with Francis. He yelped in surprise, and would have fallen off the couch if it wasn't for Gilbert, who had an arm around his waist.

"Are you jealous?" the Prussian sneered, stifling a laugh.

"What?" rasped Matthew, stuck between the Frenchman and the albino.

"See how nice Canada and Prussia look?" Antonio exclaimed, turning to South Italy and spreading his arms wide. "Why don't you come over here and give Boss Spain a hug, Romano?"

"What the hell?" Lovino spat, leaping up from his spot on the floor to hide behind a chair. "Not in a million years, jackass!"

"Could you please just shut up for once?" Germany growled, sitting up and rubbing his forehead.

Matthew looked around the room. Everyone else was waking up, blinking and stretching. Russia, China, Japan, and Germany stood up and glanced at France, Prussia, Spain, and Romano, who had woken them up. Ludwig tapped Feliciano with the tip of his boot, but the Italian continued to sleep.

"Are you aright, Canada-san?" Kiku murmured as Matthew and Gilbert sat up on the couch.

"Yeah…" replied the younger country, stealing a sideways glance at the Prussian. Gilbert was grinning at him and ignoring Francis, but his cheeks were red in embarrassment.

Kiku smiled and turned to the kitchen. "I guess it's time to make breakfast."

Matthew stood up suddenly, surprising everyone else. "Can you make pancakes? Or better… waffles? I have some maple syrup in my bag." As if on cue, Kumajiro padded up and held out a small bottle of the sweet liquid.

"Well…" Kiku hesitated. He was planning to make sushi.

"Come on," Gilbert exclaimed, jumping up beside Matthew. "We'll make some together!"

"Pasta!" North Italy suddenly exclaimed in his sleep. The other countries murmured in amusement.

Laughing, Gilbert grabbed Matthew's wrist and tugged him into the kitchen with Kiku following close behind. Matthew, catching onto the good mood, smiled and followed without protest, but he couldn't help but worry about Arthur and his brother.

_Where are you?_ He thought helplessly. _Are you still okay? Please come back safely…_

**~~America~~**

Alfred woke to find himself shackled with his back against a wall, his limbs spread out in an 'X' shape. Groaning, he glanced to his right and spotted Arthur, shackled to the wall in a set of heavy chains, slumped against the brick wall as if he was tossed there like a discarded ragdoll. They had only their trousers on; their captive had stripped them of their boots, shirts, and weapons. The small man stirred, the chains rattling and scraping on the ground as he moved.

The American dragged his gaze from his companion and scanned the room, which was dark, save for the light which apparently shone down on him and England. He tried to strain against the bonds, but it was impossible to break free. Alfred stopped trying and gasped for breath, shocked. Never before had he been unable to break anything with his superhuman strength. He met Arthur's eyes and saw the same shock reflected in the green depths. The Brit suddenly turned and savagely tore at the chains surrounding him, muttering curses and spells under his breath.

"It's hopeless to fight," purred a familiar if not triumphant voice. "I know exactly what your strengths and weaknesses are; no matter what you do, you will not be able to break free."

"You!" Alfred exclaimed rather dramatically as the red-eyed woman stepped into the light before them.

She adjusted her glasses and glanced at her clipboard. "The United States of America; a country with surprisingly superhuman strength, yet not very clever and has no magical abilities whatsoever."

England couldn't suppress his short burst of laughter at the description. Alfred gritted his teeth and glared at his companion, silently swearing he would get back at him somehow. No one insults the hero!

"The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, or more commonly known as England," the stranger continued, clearly eager to see the Brit's reaction. "You have three other siblings: Wales, Ireland, and Scotland, but out of the four you are the only one responsible enough to bother representing your entire country. You have great amounts of magical ability, which even surpasses our most gifted sorcerer, and you practise in the dark arts, which earns much respect. However, you are physically weaker than many of the other countries, and you let your temper get the better of you, which ends up being your downfall in many conflicts."

Arthur bit his tongue and emitted a low growl instead of the curses he held on his tongue. There was no need to prove to the women that what she said was correct.

"Ah yes," she sighed, strolling over to Alfred and putting a hand on his bare chest. "I know everything."

She drew her face up closer to the American's and he recoiled, flattening himself against the wall as he tried to escape from her hypnotic red eyes.

"Everything," she whispered, "except your True Names."

Arthur whimpered involuntarily and shrank back, the chains coiling around him. Like a snake, the young woman was suddenly looming over him, her fang-like teeth bared in a savage grin.

"Yes," she hissed, "the magician here knows. In order to control the countries, I must obtain power over them first. The only way to gain power over another being is to know their name. Only the countries themselves know each other's names. I just need one of you to tell me."

Alfred wasn't listening. Sweat gleamed on his bare skin and ran down his face. The weird scientist had power, power he had never seen before in any other country. And it scared him.

"Arth…" Alfred began, but the older nation spoke over him.

"America, you bloody idiot!" snapped Arthur. "Call me England! England! It's my name she wants! _Don't say it!_"

"SAY IT!" cried the red-eyed woman, spinning around and catching Alfred's eyes with her own. "Tell me what you were about to say!"

Alfred screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head vigorously and pressing his lips together.

"Very well, I'll force it out of you!"

A thud sounded, followed by a groan that was cut off by a sharp crack and England's howl of pain. Alfred's eyes flew open and he saw his friend lying on the floor with a boot to his head and his cheek planted to the ground. With a barbed whip raised and a sadistic expression on his face was the blue-black eyed man in the wind-breaker, gazing down at England like a lynx ready to kill a rabbit.

"Don't worry, I won't kill you yet," the man sneered as he ground his boot harder into Arthur's head, bringing tears to the small nation's emerald eyes.

"Stop it!" cried Alfred, unable to watch Arthur being treated in such a manner. "Just leave him alone!"

The man's weight slackened and Arthur snarled at Alfred. "Don't tell them, you bloody git! I'd rather die than be controlled by—"

Arthur's words rose to a high-pitched wail as the sharp end of the whip ripped his back open. Blood spattered the floor around him as he lay gasping, unable to speak as he tried to fight the pain.

"Shut up!" snapped the woman, who was by Alfred's side.

Ignoring the command, England swallowed and gazed up at America, green eyes dull with pain.

"Don't… tell them," he panted. "That's an order… bloody git."

The whip connected with his back again and he let out a weaker cry, and then fell silent.

The room was quiet except for Arthur's laboured breathing. The enemies were looking at America expectantly.

"If you tell us, we'll end this pathetic country's suffering," said the man in his gravelly voice.

"Well?" the woman prompted.

Alfred looked down at England, at the blood that stained the floor around him. Then he looked at his own bare chest, gleaming with sweat. He knew what was coming next, and he couldn't believe what he was about to say. He looked up and grinned.

"Sorry," America smirked. "Orders are orders."

The two enemies stared at him in dumbfounded bewilderment. Arthur coughed up clots of blood as he forced a faint chuckle.

"There's one thing you forgot to add to that list," Alfred continued, his smile broadening. "Countries are very loyal to their allies."

"Of course they are," the woman smiled smugly, getting over her initial shock. "But then how would you explain this?"

There was a crack of another whip echoing in the shadows. Alfred winced as he guessed who it was for. His breathing quickened and cold sweat broke on his brow. How was he going to get out of this mess?

"Meet our newest member," the woman hissed.

Stepping into the light, brandishing a barbed whip in one hand and a boomerang in the other, was Australia.

"Greetings, friends," he said in a flat, expressionless tone.

Speechless, Alfred and Arthur could do nothing but stare as Australia raised his whip and brought it down across America's chest.

**~~Canada~~**

Canada let out a wail of pure agony and he clutched his chest, collapsing onto the kitchen floor.

"Canada-san!" Japan exclaimed, setting the plate of rice on the table and kneeling down beside the young nation. "What is wrong?"

"Canada!" Gilbert got down on one knee in front of the shaking country and gripped his shoulders. "Say something!"

Matthew crouched, gasping for breath, tears springing into his eyes. White-hot pain shot across his chest nine more times and he bit his tongue to stop form crying out. When it was over, he was sweating and trembling. He collapsed into Prussia's arms, whimpering.

"What happened?" Kiku prodded gently as Gilbert stroked Matthew's back comfortingly.

Matthew looked up and opened his mouth, but ended up having to spit out clots of blood. Gilbert and Kiku winced; the small country had bitten his tongue so hard it bled.

"America… and I have a… connection," Matthew stammered, blood dripping from the side of his mouth. "Anything that happens to him affects me, whether it's politically, economically, or…" he gulped, "physically."

The nations who had gathered to see what the commotion was about felt their blood run cold.

"Does that mean…?" Kiku murmured, afraid to finish his sentence.

"Somewhere in this building, America is being tormented for information," Canada whispered, clutching his chest and bowing his head. Blood dripped from his mouth as he continued to bite his tongue. "England and America are in trouble, and it's my fault."

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

I love to torture characters, sorry.

It gets worse in every arch by the way, so if you don't like it, I suggest you turn back while it's still... mild.

PLEASE REVEIW!


	15. The Skill

**_The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive_**

**15—The Skill (Telepathy)**

**~~America~~**

Alfred blinked his eyes open. His vision was blurry, and it took some time for him to realize that his glasses had either fallen off or been taken from him. He stiffened his muscles to move, trying to lift his head, but ended up coughing out blood. Groaning, he gritted his teeth, pain shooting through his body.

"America… Are you alright?" rasped England. "Not that I care or anything," he added quickly, although he knew it was a half-hearted lie.

Chains rattled as the Brit stirred. He sat up and eyed America. The usually strong, upbeat nation was still pinned to the wall, his head bowed and hair plastered to his head, except for that stubborn Nantucket Arthur would have laughed at in any other situation. Alfred's chest was laced with ten deep gashes, all bleeding severely, the blood soaking into his trousers and dripping from his bare feet onto the ground. Panic fluttered in Arthur's heart; if the wounds didn't heal, America would die of blood loss. He dragged his own battered body over to where Alfred was shackled. The taller man's blue eyes stared blindly at the struggling Englishman.

"Save your strength," muttered Alfred, tensing his muscles. "Leave everything to me; I'll find a way to get us out."

"Not in that condition, you bloody…" Arthur winced at what he said and shut his mouth. He reached out and gently put a hand on Alfred's side. The younger country cried out in pain.

"See?"

"Just give me time to heal," Alfred growled between clenched teeth. "All nations can heal themselves, with or without magic powers."

"These wounds are too deep," protested Arthur flatly. "You might…"

"But if you try to heal me with your power, you'll kill yourself!" the American argued.

Ignoring his protests, Arthur willed his energy to flow into Alfred's broken body. For a moment, he glowed with green fire, causing America to trail off into silence and admire the power.

Instantly, the American's deep wounds started to close. He closed his eyes and sighed in satisfaction. Arthur pulled away and Alfred cracked an eye open and peered at the Brit.

"Hey, you okay?" murmured Alfred. "Your wounds…"

"My back healed a while ago, while you were unconscious," Arthur replied, leaning against the wall beside America and panting. He let his hand fall to the ground, only to hear a faint splash. Arthur looked down and realized with a sick feeling that he was lying in a pool of America's blood.

"Unconscious…?"

"You don't remember?" the Brit sighed. "After ten hits your body went limp. I saw it all and I thought you were dead."

His voice was shaking with fear for the man he considered his little brother. Arthur cursed himself for how pathetic he sounded. America was independent! He didn't care! Did he…?

"Heroes don't die," America scoffed, attempting a laugh but ending up with a cracked squeak.

Arthur snorted in bitter amusement and leaned back, closing his eyes.

"Hmph," he muttered, "idiot."

Footsteps echoed through the room and the red-eyed woman stepped into the light. Behind her, hidden in the shadows, were Australia and the blue-black-eyed man.

"So you countries _can_ heal yourselves," the woman said in delight. "Then that means I get to inflict _more_ pain on you!"

Both England and America flinched.

She walked over to Alfred and looked up at him intensely. He stared back, determined not to show any fear.

"Think you're so great, don't you, America?" sneered his enemy. She leaned closer and licked up the blood on his chest, smiling at the discomfort on Alfred's face. From where he was sitting, England saw what she was doing and growled.

"Mm… the blood of a superhuman tastes wonderful," she purred, pulling away and baring her sharp teeth in a grin. "I can't wait to preform experiments on you."

As she was walking away, America felt a surge of power enter his body. He glanced quickly at England, but the older country's attention was focused on glaring at the woman.

_America? America!_ A worried but familiar voice called in his mind. _Testing, testing. Can you hear me?_

_CANADA!_America cried with bewilderment in his mind.

_America!_ The younger country sounded as if he were about to faint with relief.

_How the hell did you get into my head!_

_Telepathy. Apparently the Italy brothers could do it, so I thought we could too. Cool, eh?_

_Tele—__what? _Alfred sounded genuinely confused.

_Never mind, idiot,_ his brother replied in annoyance, sounding like England. _I'm going to send you some of my power. Use it wisely._

Another rush of energy flowed into America and he drew in a sharp breath. England's attention snapped back to Alfred.

_Dude, t__his is just your power?_ Alfred asked in disbelief as energy flowed into his body like a river. What Canada was sending him was not only mental energy, but also physical strength.

_Yep__, _Canada replied a bit smugly. _Why? Can't you handle it?_

_Of course I can, _America retorted defensively.

_Well?_

_It's just… you're strong,_ Alfred admitted reluctantly, flexing his muscles. He felt them ripple powerfully under his skin and he grinned.

_That's what I want to hear,_ crowed the younger nation in satisfaction.

Matthew sent a final burst of enormous power and at the same moment Alfred strained against the bonds, breaking them effortlessly and standing strong and defiant against the three enemies. The woman whipped around. Behind her, the blue-black-eyed man's jaw dropped.

America glanced at England, whose emerald eyes were wide in bewilderment. Recovering from the shock, he started to snap orders at the younger country.

"Well don't just stand there, git!" he snarled. "Get us out of here!"

Alfred grinned and ripped the chains to pieces as effortlessly as ripping paper.

"Stop him!" screeched the woman in rage.

Australia leapt without hesitation, mechanically bringing his arm around to deal a fatal blow. America blocked the attack with one arm and swept the other nation off his feet with a powerful roundhouse kick. Australia's eyes widened in shock as he flew into the shadows and crashed into a hidden wall.

The blue-black-eyed man followed up Australia's attack with a swift spear-hand thrust aimed for America's heart. England spat something unintelligible and the man's hand stopped in mid-air, his fingertips brushing the American's bare chest.

_Hurry, America!_ Canada snapped softly in his mind._ I can't keep the connection up. Get out of there right now!_

Alfred recoiled in panic and confusion then spotted the set of keys hanging from the frozen man's belt. Striking like a snake, he snatched the keys and scooped up Arthur. Combining his strength with Canada's freshly supplied power, Alfred grabbed the man's wrist and threw him aside, darting forward and knocking aside the furious woman.

Blue eyes met red eyes and for a moment time stopped. America's fear and the woman's rage crackled like electricity in the air. They studied each other for a heartbeat, then the link snapped and time sped up. For England's life as well as his own, Alfred fled into the shadows. An unearthly howl filled the halls behind him and he stumbled in terror and panic.

"No one escapes a hungry red wolf!" the crazed scientist cried. "I will find you and kill you all! _I shall__ have my revenge!_"

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

There you have it, they escaped.

...for now.

If you want me to update, YOU BETTER REVIEW! XDDD


	16. The Vision

**_The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive_**

**16—The Vision**

**~Canada~**

Matthew wished he knew what was happening. All he could sense was his brother's pain and desperation. And fear. Never before had he seen, or rather felt, America so scared, even when he was left alone in the dark. Matthew's own heart was pounding, and all he did to help was by simply sitting on the couch and trying to contact his brother. He hoped it was enough.

As he slipped away from his brother's mind and into reality, Canada opened his deep indigo eyes and looked around. Feliciano and his brother, Lovino, were sitting on the chairs across from him, looking at him expectantly with their golden eyes. Prussia and Russia sat to one side of him on the couch, their expressions serious.

"Well?" Germany, who was standing by North Italy's chair, prompted impatiently.

"Did it work?" Lovino growled, trying to hide the fear in his voice. Spain reached over the back of the chair to rub South Italy's shoulder and he scowled.

"Yes," Matthew replied, hugging Kumajiro close to him. "You were right, eh, Veneciano? Telepathy does work between me and America."

"You're North American twins," Feliciano chirped up. "You're like me and Romano. Except we're both Italy."

"Hmm… Too bad I can't do the same with England," France murmured. He stood beside the couch with one hand on Canada's shoulder.

"I don't think he'd want you invading his thoughts," Matthew said dryly.

"I guess that applies to West, too," Prussia glanced at Germany and grinned.

China came from the kitchen with Japan following more slowly.

"Has the bleeding stopped?" China asked, bending down to look at Canada.

"I think so," Matthew whispered. "The ointment you put on seemed to have sped up the healing."

"You must be half wolf or something," Gilbert commented. "You ate your own tongue back there."

Some other countries chuckled softly at the Prussian's half-hearted attempt at humour.

He stuck out his tongue and China inspected it. The older country nodded in satisfaction, and then glanced at Japan.

"Here is some tea," Kiku murmured, passing a cup to the younger nation. "It will help soothe any pain you have."

"Thank you," rasped Matthew. "All of you. Thanks."

_**-C-**_

It's because you are North American twins.

_The wolf and I circle each other. We've had three training sessions, and I __am already capable of defeating the wolf on a one-on-one bout. Over the course of our time together, I discovered the wolf was a male wolf. Because of his pure white pelt, I had decided to name __him Waabishki,__ which means white in one of my original languages _**_. He calls me a half-wolf, but I don't know what that means. All he would say is that I have a special power that others are trying to use through me. I guess he's trying to explain why these crazy people are after me._

The Italy brothers are twins. There must be some connection between twin countries.

Then does that mean America has the same special power I have? _I ask hopefully._

By blood, yes, you should. However, I do not understand the things that divide countries. By being immortal and not a part of nature directly, you may not share the same traits that mortal beings have. For example, you are able to talk to animals. You can not only speak with me, but also with your bear friend.

_He means Kumajiro. Oh. So that's why China doesn't talk to his panda and Prussia with his bird. Not because they don't want to. It's probably because they can't. Not in the way I can, anyways._

_I pause to think about this. This is one mistake I often make. I can't stop thinking!_

_While I'm distracted, Waabishki growls and slams his paws into me. For a wolf, he's very big, powerful, and heavy. He knocks me over, his teeth hovers dangerously close to my throat._

I told you to stay focused! _He growls, letting me up._

_For a while, he sits quietly, evaluating me._

You can shoot down a moving target with an arrow, right?_ He asks slowly._

Yes.

How?

I predict where the target is going to move next,_ I answer, mystified at the sudden question. _I simply judge where my target's momentum is going to take it and how fast. Then when I know I can hit it, I instinctively let it fly.

Then when you're defending yourself, anticipate your opponent's next move. Predict where they'll move next. The moment they move, they can't stop themselves. Watch where they're going to strike, block the attack, and then counter.

_He leaps at me, his weight thrown forward into a reckless attack to my throat. I grab his muzzle in one hand, then flip him with the other and pin him down. He whines and thumps his tail in submission._

We'll practice the block more often,_ he commented._ You're not good with hand-to-hand combat. You are accustomed to sneaking around in the shadows since nobody notices you. Your best defense is not being noticed. Your best offense is your long-range combat skills with both bow and gun. The problem now is that everyone notices you now.

I'm glad I'm getting some training from you,_ I whisper._

_Suddenly, he pads up to me and his red eyes locks with my blue ones. A spark zaps between us and I close my eyes instinctively. In my mind, I see America lying against a wall with England in his arms, surrounded in a pool of blood. The vision seems so real—I swear I can even smell the stink of blood and death. Both of them are stripped of everything but their trousers, exposing their torn chests. Their guts are exposed and their blood-stained bones are jutting out horrifically. England's green eyes are closed, but America is staring directly at me, blue eyes unfocused and glassy, as if he were…_

_I cry out in horror, but before I can move, the vision fades._

_Even after it is gone and I am left in darkness, it still stays fresh in my mind. The choking stench of death and the sight of flesh torn open will haunt me for a very long time._

_**-C-**_

The Canadian woke to the sound of muted snarling and shouting. The countries were arguing again.

He got up from the couch and was instantly face-to-face with the Spanish man.

"How was your siesta, amigo?" Antonio asked, smiling teasingly.

"I'm not going to fall for that," muttered Matthew, avoiding the topic. "Now tell me what's really going on."

"What do you mean?" he said, still smiling. It was getting annoying.

"What is everyone doing?" hissed the Canadian, his patience wearing thin. His anger was fuelled mostly by his worry for his brother and that the disturbing vision could be true. He shook his head to clear it, then stood up from his place on the couch and shoved the Spanish man to one side roughly.

"Told you he would get angry at you, jackass," growled Lovino, who was leaning on the wall and watching Spain as he clumsily, fell over. The Italian wore a sour sneer to hide his concern for the older nation.

Antonio and Lovino stayed where they were, watching as Matthew marched stiffly into the kitchen, where the voices were coming from.

"I'm tired of waiting here!" Germany was shouting at France. "I say we should all go and look for a way out, or at least try and find America and England!"

"We have to stay here!" Francis insisted. "It's not safe to wander around, plus if England and America come back and find us gone, what will they do?"

Japan stood loyally at Germany's shoulder, glaring at China, who stood by France. Russia and Prussia stood by the door, looking bemused. North Italy cowered behind Germany and Japan, clutching a white flag so tightly, his knuckles were white.

"I agree with Germany-san," murmured Kiku. "We aren't doing anything right now…"

"We should split up then, aru," Wong suggested dryly. "I'm sure none of you care about the Allies, anyway."

Kiku's eyes flickered dangerously, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he glanced at Ludwig, who just looked disappointed.

"Ufufu!" Ivan laughed. "They're so amusing to watch."

Gilbert glanced at the taller man uncertainly, and then took a wary step away from him.

"I'm not going to stay and argue," Ludwig sighed. "Come on Japan, Italy. Prussia. We're leaving."

Lovino darted into the room and hugged his trembling brother close.

"If he's going, I'm going too," he declared. "I'm not being left behind this time!"

Germany shouldered past France angrily, with Japan following indignantly. Veneciano wriggled out of his brother's grasp and stumbled after Ludwig.

"No! Don't go!" he cried, clinging to the leader of the Axis. "It's safe here! And we have pasta!"

"I'm not staying with ihim/i any longer!" growled the German, glaring at Francis. "Let's go Italy. Don't worry. Japan and I will protect you."

"Me too," Gilbert added with a sly grin directed to the Italian. Matthew felt a pang of jealousy, but pushed the feeling away, reaching for an arrow.

Lovino stood, looking betrayed at how close his brother seemed to Germany. Antonio sauntered into the room and put his arms around the Southern Italian. For once, Lovino didn't protest.

Russia moved away from the door as Germany's party approached. Before any of them could touch the doorknob, an arrow thudded into the door frame at eye-level. All four Axis members turned, shocked, to see Matthew standing with his bow raised.

"I'm not letting you leave," he announced, loud and clear. "I want all of us to stay together. I'm not letting anyone else out until my brothers' return."

"Are you trying to provoke a fight?" Ludwig asked his voice icily calm. Gilbert shot Matthew a warning glance.

"No," Matthew retorted defiantly, lowering his bow. "I'm trying to keep us together, even if it means we start arguing with each other. I don't want to lose anyone else."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Kiku put in.

"Yeah," Gilbert added. "No offense, Canada, but we're getting kind of restless with nothing to do, besides guarding you."

"I have an idea," Matthew replied a little too smugly. "Let's practice our fighting skills."

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

** Canada is talking about the languages of the Aboriginal peoples. Waabishki's name is the Ojibwe word for "White". I think Canada would use his first language for personal matters- after all, he and America were technically Aboriginals themselves before the Europeans found them.

I had to do a lot of research for this. Correct me if I did anything wrong, thanks!

These next few chapters are for **Simple Shimmers** for the awesome review. You really made my day! :D

Now please review~! :3


	17. The Beast

**_The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive_**

**17—The Beast**

**~America~**

Alfred staggered to a halt and leaned against a wall, cradling Arthur in his arms. Matthew's short burst of energy had lasted only a few moments after he had broken the connection, and now Alfred could feel how exhausted he really was. He doubled over, sweat dripping down his face.

The Brit gently coaxed the American to let him stand on his own. Alfred could see that already Arthur's own strength had returned. Concern glittered in his emerald eyes, without a hint of fatigue.

"Are you alright, America?" Arthur murmured. "We have to keep on moving. They will get here any minute."

"Just let me catch my breath," gasped Alfred, his breathing slowly steadying.

"Alright," the Brit continued warily, looking around the pitch-black corridor, the whites of his eyes gleaming in the darkness. "Do you know where we are? Can you find a way back?"

"I don't know where we just came from," Alfred admitted, straightening up and stretching his muscles. "And it's so dark I can't tell where we are. This is a pretty big building, you know."

"Can you contact Canada?" Arthur suddenly asked.

"You mean through tele-whatever-it-was?" Alfred scowled. He didn't have magical powers! Only Canada could reach him. He didn't know how to do it on his own.

"It's called telepathy," Arthur explained. "You're almost identical twins. You should be able to connect with Canada without even trying."

"I'm not a magician!" grumbled Alfred. Inwardly, he shivered. It sounded as if Arthur already knew Matthew could contact his mind.

"Just try!" the Brit urged. "If you can contact him, then you can get a feeling of where he is, if you try hard enough. If you can do that, you can get us back to where the others are."

"Why don't you do it, with all your magical powers and all that shit?" muttered Alfred darkly.

"I only know certain types," the Englishman replied curtly, avoiding the subject quickly. "I don't have a connection like you Americans do."

"Well I…" Alfred stopped. This wasn't getting them anywhere. They had to get out somehow. He shrugged; he might as well try.

Leaning back on the wall, he closed his eyes and imagined his brother in his mind. He reached out, calling for Canada, willing the northern country to hear him. He didn't know exactly what to do, so he simply repeated Canada's words to him.

_Canada? Canada! Testing! Testing! Can you—?_

_Eh? America! Stop shouting! You're giving me a headache! I'm trying to concentrate here!_

_I'__m sorry, _America grumbled apologetically._ I don't know how this telegraphy stuff works._

_It's called telepathy,_ the younger country corrected gently._ Are you alright? Do you need help?_

_I'm trying to get a feeling of where you are, _replied Alfred. He sounded so stupid, and he didn't even know what he was trying to say._ We're kinda lost, see? And I'm tryi__ng to find you so we can get back__._

Wow that sounded so dumb.

_Oh, I think I know what you're saying._ Matthew replied. _Here. I hope this helps._

A sharp prick of pain burned on America's left palm and he yelped.

_Ow! What did you…?_

Suddenly, he could feel Canada's presence in the building. He knew exactly where to find his brother and where to go, like a hound on a trail. The American could practically smell the bead of blood forming on the cut in Matthew's hand. He felt a sense of relief that he knew where to go, along with a feeling of confusion and curiosity.

_Dude, I can smell the blood!_ Alfred exclaimed. _What's going on?_

_I cut myself with my arrow, _explained the younger country

_But how did you know I would sense it?_ Alfred pressed, mystified.

Canada hesitated.

_That's because I can smell your blood, too._

Matthew snapped the link instantly, as if he didn't have the strength to speak anymore, or he was too scared. The American opened his eyes and slowly pushed himself off the wall.

Arthur, who was keeping watch, glanced at Alfred.

"Well?"

"I know where to go," Alfred muttered distractedly, rubbing his stinging hand. He expected blood to appear on it any minute. "He hurt himself to help me…"

Arthur could feel Alfred's guilt and pain and he drew closer to the other country. He could barely see the outline of the tall American in the darkness. Reaching out, he put a hand on Alfred's chest, just to make sure he was really there. The bigger man flinched at the touch, and Arthur could feel the American's skin sticky with sweat and drying blood. He wished he could say something to comfort the younger one, but he couldn't think up any motivational speeches at the moment. His only thought was to get out alive.

Alfred twitched awkwardly as he felt the smaller man's hands slide from his chest to the small of his naked back. It felt odd to have the warm fingers touching him when he could barely see in the dark, although he felt the Brit's presence somewhat comforting. Arthur's strong fingers started to rub the spot on Alfred's back and he stifled a moan of pleasure. The taller nation knew Arthur was only trying to comfort, but it felt much more like seducing, especially with the fact that they were both half-naked and standing in a dark corridor. He shuddered and gently pushed the small man away, trying not to be drawn into the moment.

"We have to get out of here," Alfred rasped weakly. He cleared his throat and awkwardly pulled himself away from the Brit. "We have the keys, I know where to go, and you have your power. Let's go back."

He turned to walk down the corridor, staying as silent as he could, the fear of death scaring him into silence. He caught a glimpse of England's green eyes, which were wide with surprise, and he stopped, looking back.

"What?"

"I… have my power back…" stammered Arthur. "Is it because you beat them? Or is it because they're using their magic on brainwashing Australia?"

"You think I didn't notice?" Alfred growled, raising his voice impatiently. "I…"

He noticed the look of fear that crept into the Englishman's green eyes and trailed off. Arthur was staring at a point just above Alfred's head, and he could feel something wet drip onto his head and run down his hair. He slowly tipped his head up and found himself face-to-face with gleaming white teeth that were sharper than knives, and a pair of intense, blood-red eyes that glowed hypnotically.

"RUN!" America cried in terror, then turned and fled. He glanced back to see that the beast had dropped from the ceiling between him and England, cutting off the older nation from reaching him.

But the monster's glowing red eyes were aimed at him. It leaped for him, teeth bared and gleaming blood-stained claws reaching for his flesh…

England stomped on the monster's tail, cutting its leap short. With a pathetic whine, the thing tumbled back, stunned. Arthur took the chance and skirted around the monster, trying to catch up to the American.

"Use your power!" Alfred shouted over his shoulder.

"I can't!" gasped Arthur, his eyes wide in confusion and panic. "It's being blocked again!"

"Shit!" they muttered at the same time.

The monster staggered to its feet, growling in rage, then turned and pounced on the Englishman, missing the fleeing nation by a hair's breadth. But its claws managed to rake down the man's exposed side, and it howled in triumph. England's body jerked back and he let out a cry of agony that pierced Alfred's heart. The American growled and darted forward, catching the injured country as he fell.

Before the beast could prepare for another attack, Alfred retreated at a sprint down the corridor, without looking back. Blood pounded in his ears and the choking scent of Arthur's blood made him sick. Stumbling with exhaustion, he reached a dead end, the roars of the monster filling his ears. Alfred hit the wall in despair and collapsed with the Brit cradled in his arms. He hugged Arthur close to his body like a pillow and stared blankly into the dark, awaiting his end.

"I'm sorry, England," he rasped. "In the end, I couldn't be the hero."

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

Sorry for the deperssing cliffhanger, folks, but I gotta get my rest, eh? :P

I'm going back to school on Monday and I've got a preformance tomorrow, so it may take up to a week for me to update (sorry!)

But I've been updating like crazy this March Break. I think this is an appropriate place to stop...

SO IF U WANT ME TO** CONTINUE** U SHOULD **REVIEW** THANKS! XDDDD

~RedWolf Rocky :D


	18. The Pain

_**The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive **_

**18—The Pain**

**~Canada~**

Matthew stood beside his team. Germany faced Canada with the others behind him. They had pushed all the tables and chairs back in order to make room for a training exercise Matthew had come up with.

Like always, it was Allies versus Axis, but this time it was Canada in the lead.

China, France, and Russia stood behind him, flexing their muscles and observing their opponents. Behind Germany stood Japan, Prussia, and North Italy (but since they knew Veneciano wouldn't do anything, they allowed Romano to play, too). Spain stood in the middle of the teams, acting as referee.

"This is going to be a fair game," Antonio announced to the leaders. "You're allowed to help your Allies. If you lose, you're out. Last one standing wins."

Matthew nodded in assent. He had discussed the rules already. He trembled with excitement. This was the moment of truth: to see how much he had learned from Waabishki! He quickly glanced at his hand. The tiny wound he made for America had healed. He only hoped America would get back soon. He did not want the vision to come true…

The Canadian pushed the thought to the back of his mind. It was time to focus!

"No weapons," Antonio was saying, "and no blood. This isn't war, it's training. Got it?"

Everyone murmured agreement. With a cheerful smile, Spain stepped back, scooping up Kumajiro to keep him out of the way, and raised a hand.

"Start!"

Like he had seen Waabishki do so many times, Matthew launched himself at Ludwig, extending his arms and reaching for the big man's throat. Before he could land, a massive weight crashed into his side, knocking his breath away. He lay winded on the floor with Gilbert on top of him, their noses touching.

"Sorry," he growled playfully, raising his head. "I couldn't let you beat my brother, now could I?"

"I'm not finished that easy," wheezed the Canadian with a crooked smirk. He grabbed the Prussian's collar and planted his boot in Gilbert's belly. "Don't underestimate a Canadian, _eh_."

He let go of Gilbert's collar and kicked him off, getting to his knees. The Prussian had tumbled into his brother and the two landed on top of each other. France, who was keeping the German occupied, let out a triumphant shout, only to be cut off by Romano, who slammed into him. The Italian grabbed Francis' collar and lifted the winded Frenchmen up, drawing his fist back, his mouth twisted into a sadistic grin.

"_Ciao_, France," he growled. Spain swooped down and pulled the Southern Italian away from the Allied nation.

"That's enough," scolded Antonio gently, grinning at Francis. Lovino let out a hiss of anger and struggled half-heartedly.

"I could've saved myself, you know," the Frenchman snapped defensively.

"Sure," replied Spain. "Either way, you, Germany, and Prussia are out of the game."

"Germany and Prussia?" Francis asked, shocked that the brothers would be defeated. "Was it because of me?"

"Are you stupid?" spat Lovino, pointing to a spot behind France. "Of course not. It's because of _him_."

France turned to see Canada sitting on top of an indignant Prussia. Beside him, with the Canadian's boot placed firmly on his chest, was Germany, looking embarrassed at his defeat and furious at Prussia's mistake.

"I think I win this round, eh," Matthew said cheerfully with a sweet smile. Spain and France shivered at how innocent the Canadian looked, but how dangerous he could really be. The three defeated nations melted into the shadows with Spain watching as Lovino and Matthew darted back into the fight.

Russia had already intimidated Feliciano into surrendering, and joined with Canada to face the lone Italian, who was scowling defiantly. His face was twisted into an aggressive snarl, but he was inching backwards ever so slightly, a nervous spark in his eyes.

"Just wait you jerks!" snapped Lovino, just barely managing to keep his voice from shaking. "You don't know the strength of the mafia! I'm gonna beat the crap outta you!"

"Then do it!" taunted Ivan sweetly. "But I think it would be wiser to run, like your little brother!"

"Besides, I don't think you'd want to make us your enemies…" Matthew added with a warm smile.

The tall Russian and the smaller Canadian started to advance, shoulder to shoulder, their eyes closed and their lips curved into creepy smiles. Romano steeled his resolve and stood his ground, but was starting to sweat nervously.

"_AIYAH!_" China suddenly exclaimed, causing everyone to divert their attention to the Asian nations, "how could you have defeated me, aru!"

Kiku held the older country down with one hand on a pressure point, the other in a position to strike with a spear-handed thrust to the heart. The Chinese was paralyzed and at Kiku's mercy.

"China's down!" announced Spain, breaking up the fight. "Now it will be all for nothing. No allies, no help. No weapons, no blood."

He got the remaining countries to stand in a circle. "Canada, Russia, Romano, and Japan; the last one standing will be the winner. Good luck!"

He stepped back and the four countries prepared to attack. Japan's face was expressionless as he calmly calculated each of his opponents. Romano had a look of pure hatred in his eyes, but no one believed he would last very long before he lost to cowardice. Russia was childishly smiling, an atmosphere of absolute menace surrounding him. Canada had narrowed his indigo eyes, his expression focused stonily on the fight. His ears twitched as he heard Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio exchanging bets in the background.

The four countries tensed, coiled to spring at any moment. Before anyone could move, Canada let out a screech of agony and collapsed, clutching his left shoulder as if it were about to fall off. The hostility and tension in his opponents' eyes swiftly vanished, and was replaced with shock and concern.

The others were shouting his name, but all Matthew could think about was the unbearable pain and the dreadful thought that his vision was about to come true.

_America! England! Stay alive!_

**~America~**

The teeth slid into his flesh, tearing out a chunk of flesh from his left shoulder. Burning pain seared through his body and his left arm went limp. Warm blood spilled down his chest and back as he broke away from the beast and staggered back. America was too exhausted to cry out with pain; instead he focused all his energy on keeping himself and England alive.

Alfred narrowed his eyes, struggling to see properly. He could just barely see the monster in the dim lighting, despite how close he was. His impaired eyesight wasn't helping, either. The monster had the body shape of a wolf, but was about twice the size of a normal one. It had a mane of black fur that rose into spines, like enlarged porcupine quills. Its claws were huge—about the size of a butcher's knife—and its huge jaws were filled with rows of sharp teeth, with one huge fang protruding downwards from the left side of its jaw, stained with Alfred's blood. He could just make out strands of his own flesh snared between the front set of teeth, and it took all he had not to throw up.

The Brit had climbed to his feet. The worst of his wounds had healed, but the bleeding hadn't stopped. Alfred glanced at his companion, his blue eyes wide in fear and despair. Arthur's lip was curled into a snarl and his green eyes blazed with anger and determination. The hunger for battle flickered in the small man's eyes as he glared at the beast. Alfred remembered seeing the same expression when he was still a boy. He never thought he would see it again.

"I'll teach you not to mess with a former pirate!" snarled the Englishman, his fingers itching to hold a sword and start slicing the beast to pieces. He glanced at the American and nodded to the wall.

"Stay behind me," he hissed. "Get that bite fixed. I'll deal with this."

Alfred swallowed back a protest and nodded, collapsing against the wall and sliding down slowly to the floor leaving a red smear on the wall, his right hand trying to staunch the bleeding on his left shoulder. His hand was completely covered in blood and he started sobbing in frustration. The wound was too deep to heal fast enough, and he didn't have enough cloth to make a bandage. Sooner or later, he would faint of blood loss, and England would collapse with fatigue, making them easy prey for the huge monster. In a final, last ditch effort, Alfred put his head in his bloody hands and furiously tried to contact his brother.

_What's going on__?_ Canada asked almost instantly. Alfred could feel the anxiety and panic in his brother's mind.

_We're fighting this monster,_ Alfred replied, his mind's voice trembling with fear._ Dude, I need your strength._

_I think I can do better than that,_ Matthew replied._ I'll take the pain off your shoulder._

The pain that burned throughout his entire body lifted. The American glanced at his shoulder. It was still bleeding, but he couldn't feel anything, and his arm was able to move slightly.

_What did you do now?_

_I'm bearing the pain for you. _Matthew whispered in his mind, his voice weaker and more strained. _Any hit you take, the pain will be on me, so you can keep fighting. Just know your body's limits._

_Wow, coolio! Thanks!_

Ice-cold, refreshing Canadian strength blazed through his body and he stood up.

_It's nothing, _the Canadian replied. _Just try not to break the link with me, and everything will be fine._

Meanwhile, the Englishman had landed blows on the beast, but was unable to do any real damage without a weapon. He muttered the occasional spell, but it was sapping his energy and strength all too quickly. Alfred leaped in and landed a good set of fast punches to the beast's chest, ended by a kick that sent it flying. He turned to Arthur and grinned wickedly, blood covering his body and his eyes blazing with power and violence. Arthur flinched. This wasn't the America he knew.

"Let's get out of here," Alfred announced. He turned back to the dark corridor, power pulsing through his veins, feeling like he could destroy anything.

Arthur started to follow, when the beast shot out of the darkness and slammed Alfred into the far wall. The American let out a choking cry, and his link with Canada instantly snapped.

_Shit!_

Curved claws—a set that seemed to be hidden under the knife-shaped ones, to Alfred's horror— curled around his throat and pinned him to the wall, nearly suffocating him. He started losing strength, the pain coming back to him in a big wave that nearly knocked him out. He called on his nation strength and willed himself to stay awake for Arthur's sake.

"I'm not letting you get away!" snarled the beast in a distorted but awfully familiar voice. "I will get revenge!"

For the first time, America had a closer, more detailed look at the half-wolf. The face of the wolf was broad, the fur a light russet-red colour, and its mane of long black fur curled softly around its ears and neck before giving way to a tangle of bristly spikes. The creature opened its jaws slightly right before the American's eyes, and he could see that the right fang, slightly covered by a black lip, was only shorter than the huge left one, making it look lopsided. He grimaced at the heat of its carrion-scented breath. But the most obvious, eye-catching feature was the intense red eyes that seemed to look into his soul. His heart stopped in realization.

"You're…" he gasped.

"The mad scientist, they all say," the wolf growled. "But I'm better known as a Red Wolf; RedWolf Rocky." She bared her teeth in a cruel grin. "I'm pleased to meet you, America."

America faintly heard England's cry of horror as the half-wolf raised her claws and sliced them through his belly. Alfred choked out blood, feeling the warm, red liquid spill from his body and splash down like rain around him. He could feel his own organs threatening to fall out of the wound. His vision was spotted with blackness as he was dimly aware of falling to the ground.

Arthur watched as the half-wolf let go of his little brother and let him fall. Alfred's limp, blood-soaked body thudded sickeningly onto the floor.

"AMERICA!" he cried. The wolf raised its claws again, this time aimed for the American's heart. Its lips curled into an ugly, triumphant grin. With the last of his strength, Arthur scrambled up and threw himself in the way. The claws ripped through his chest with an audible, sickening tearing sound. He smiled defiantly at the wolf-scientist, then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed on top of America.

Alfred's eyes were wide with horror, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

The wolf looked genuinely surprised, and then it stepped back and grinned.

"He wasn't the one I wanted to kill, but this may work just as well," she sneered. "I'll leave you alive. You need to think about what your_ brilliant_ idea just did to your friend."

With that, she turned and began melting into the shadows.

"One more thing you should consider, and listen closely," the wolf glanced over her shoulder, red eyes glittering with satisfaction as she faded away. "You will die at your brother's hands, America. I promise you that."

Hardly able to process what he just heard, America looked down at the limp body he held in his arms. A faint heartbeat pounded in his friend's torn chest, threatening to stop any second. He ran his hand through the Brit's golden hair.

_This isn't happening._

If Arthur died, Alfred would lose his big brother. His father. His mentor. His friend.

His _lover_.

No!

_NO!_

His grip tightened around England, whose life was slowly ebbing away.

_It's impossible! Nations can't die!_

With tears dripping down his face, America threw his head back and screamed.

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

Okay, why did I write something so depressing and traumatizing? Again?

Sorry about the really late update. I'm going through a lot of shit right now and I can't really say this is the best time in my life right now. Hmm... I seem to take it all out on these poor personified nations, eh? It's writing therapy at it's best.. and most _horrific_. (haha)

Well, in my case, anyways.

Oh, also I've been getting a few requests for people to do spin-offs, fan art, comics, and whatnot. I personally don't mind, as long as you credit the original story to me.

Thank you to all you people for stomaching my horrible plotline so far! *flails*

AND I REWARDED ALL YOU AWESOME PEOPLE WITH THIS UNUSUALLY LONG CHAPTER! XD

**NOW REVIEW!** OR REDWOLF ROCKY WILL EAT YOU!

OMNOMNOMNOM... :)


	19. The Return

_**The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive**_

**19—The Return**

**~Canada~**

Matthew pulled at his long hair and hissed in frustration and panic. The moment the connection between him and his brother broke, he nearly snapped.

Nearly.

Ivan was like a rock; a solid piece of reality that Matthew could hold on to amid the swirling chaos and confusion in his mind. Everyone warily stepped back when they saw how furious he was, but not Ivan. The Russian was kneeling beside Matthew, his expression serious, one arm around the Canadian.

"Shit!" the little Canadian spat. "What the hell do I do now? I can't seem to contact him anymore! Fuck! What do I do!"

"There's nothing you can do right now," Gilbert murmured, his red eyes flashing with surprise at the young man's choice of words. "Just hope they will come back soon. They can take care of themselves."

"Don't tell me that!" Matthew snapped, swinging his head around to glare at the Prussian. "You don't understand! You're not the one who had to bear America's pain! What the hell do you know!"

Matthew spotted the fear flickering in the crimson depths and he sighed, looking away guiltily.

"Sorry," he muttered. "It's just… I know America's not dead, but he's not in good shape either."

"Come on," Ivan nudged the small man encouragingly. "Let's get back to our game."

"Not now," Matthew rasped. "I don't feel like it…"

He shrugged off Russia's arm, scooped up Kumajiro who stood behind him, and padded over to the couch, lying down with his back to the other countries. The Russian gazed at him, still kneeling, as the others milled around, looking for other things to do to avoid the upset nation. Ivan got up and boldly headed over to the couch, putting a hand on the Canadian's head. Matthew didn't move, but his voice shook when he spoke.

"Go away."

"It's not good to be alone, don't you agree?" Ivan said in his cheerful voice.

The Canadian flinched, his grip tightening around his polar bear. "What do you know? It's not your siblings that are about to die out there. As far as I know, you hate my brother."

Ivan sniffed. That was true. The American was an idiot.

Matthew glanced over his shoulder. "Aren't you afraid of me?"

"Why would I be?" Ivan asked in surprise.

"The other countries are," the Canadian pointed out.

"That's because you beat Prussia and his brother single-handedly, da?" Ivan replied with a slight smirk to his smile. That brought out a little huff of amusement from Matthew.

"Come on, let's do something useful," Ivan poked Matthew in the ribs and the little man squeaked. The tall man's violet eyes glittered in amusement as he poked the younger country again. He was rewarded with a faint giggle.

"Stop it!" Matthew gasped. "That tickles!"

"You're so cute," replied the Russian, laughing softly. "You sound like a mouse."

"You two seem to be a bit busy."

Matthew twitched and Ivan stiffened. They turned to see the albino leaning on a chair and grinning, but his red eyes were cold.

"Why don't you come and help out and leave that for later?" continued the Prussian.

Ivan stood up and faced Gilbert, a smile forced onto his face. Matthew sat up on the couch, hugging Kumajiro close, looking from Prussia to Russia. Their expressions were sweet, but the Canadian could feel the tension and cold hatred between them and he was afraid they would start fighting.

The Russian opened his mouth, intending to snap out a threat, but Matthew was faster. He stepped between the two older countries and grinned sheepishly at them.

"Yeah, let's go do something!" he whispered, more like his usual self. "I'm sure you're all hungry. I'll go help cook some food!"

He darted into the kitchen, but managed to catch something that sent shivers of—fear or excitement? He didn't know which—up his spine.

"Lay one hand on him and you're dead, _ublyudok_," Russia had muttered darkly in Prussia's ear. "Canada will become one with _me_."

**~America~**

The man staggered down the stairs and collapsed at a landing. He adjusted his grip on the limp body of the smaller man, whom he carried on his back. He felt warm blood dripping down his back, spilling thickly over and from his shoulder, pooling on the ground around him. His blood mixed with the blood of the Englishman. He smirked pathetically. It was a terrible irony. From brothers to enemies to lovers, their life together had always been stained with violence and blood…

He glanced up with dull blue eyes. How much closer was he to his brother? How many more steps could he take before he collapsed?

He bit his lip and staggered to his feet, splashing in the blood. His body trembled with violent fits of coughing, spitting blood and saliva from his mouth. Groaning, he slowly made his way down the next flight of stairs, calling up every bit of superhuman strength he had left.

The only thing the man had in mind was to only hope he could make it back, before it was too late.

**~Canada~**

Canada splattered the sweet, sticky liquid onto his plain spaghetti as the other countries watched in disgust. He slurped up the pasta with relish, and then glanced at the nations who were staring at him.

"Eeew," Lovino said, looking away and sticking his tongue out in disgust. "What the fuck is that?"

Licking his lips, Matthew grinned and held out the full bottle to them.

"Maple syrup," he mumbled with a mouth full of pasta. "Want some?"

"Pasta's supposed to have tomato sauce on it, jackass! Tomato! Tomato!" exclaimed the Italian. "Why the hell would you put fucking syrup on it!"

"I like it sweet," the little Canadian murmured with a shrug.

"Aww, come on, it can't be that bad," Antonio said with a laugh, moving away from Romano and leaning over Canada and his food. "Let me try that."

"I don't think that's a good idea…" Gilbert murmured, but the Spaniard was already picking up a strand of spaghetti and putting it in his mouth.

"Well?" Matthew prompted after Antonio swallowed. The Spaniard made a face, but tried to hide it with a crooked grin.

"It's… Interesting," he concluded, then rushed over to the sink for a glass of water.

Lovino burst out into a throaty laugh. "That's what you get bastard!" he crowed. "Tomatoes always go and you know it!"

"I've got more pasta over here, everyone!" announced his brother from the stove. He brought over a pot full of the spaghetti over to the dining table, where everyone gathered.

"Did you make the sauce?" Lovino asked, wiping drool from his mouth. The smell was intoxicating to him.

"Of course," Feliciano exclaimed, pointing to the other smaller pot on the stove. "With lots of tomatoes, because I know you love them,_ fratello_."

The older Italian bounded over to the tomato sauce, his golden eyes glittering with excitement and hunger. The other nations settled themselves, their plates piled with pasta. Much to Canada's amusement, no other nation had used maple syrup for sauce. He looked down at his half-finished food and frowned. The only other nation who liked things with syrup on them was America. That country would eat anything! Thinking of his brother made him want to cry and his appetite disappeared.

"Lighten up," Gilbert said, patting the young country on the back. "Enjoy the time you have now, because you might regret it later."

"Sure. I'll do that, eh." Matthew allowed himself a small smile, attempting to hide his amusement. The Prussian smelled like beer, but where he got his hands on it was beyond the younger country.

Suddenly the main door swung open. Ivan, who was guarding the door, raised his pipe, ready to bring it down on the intruder, violet eyes narrowed and blazing with cold fire. Then he froze, his muscles stiffening and eyes widening.

"America!" he exclaimed in shock.

The young nation stumbled into the room with England on his back. Both countries were badly injured and covered in blood.

"Brother!" Matthew cried in distress, shoving the startled Russian out of the way and stopping in front of Alfred.

"See?" Alfred rasped, forcing himself to smile painfully. "I told you I'd come back."

America's dull blue eyes closed and he collapsed.

_I'm back._

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

**Translations:**

**Russian:**_ _ublyudok __= bastard

**Italian:**_ fratello_ = brother

I feel uncomfortable using the Russian language, so please correct me if something doesn't make sense. Most languages, like German and Chinese, are practically foriegn to me, which is why I don't often use other languages in my stories. (But that's what Google Translate is for~! /shot XD) I'm far more comfortable with Latin-based languages such as French, Italian, and Spanish, but I make more grammar mistakes than anything else with those three.

So I'm just thankful Canada, America, and England are English.

But that was never my point so I dunno what the heck I'm talking about...

YAY RANTING! :D

Anyways. This is my Easter treat for everyone. ^^ Please review, and have a wonderful Easter~!


	20. The Wounds

**_The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive_**

**20— The Wounds**

**~America~**

America opened his eyes. A pair of dark violet-blue eyes stared down at him. He smiled and held out his right hand.

"Hey, Canada…" he whispered.

"I told you not to go!" Matthew burst out, grabbing his brother's hand. "I should've gone with you! Now look what happened! You're so badly injured. And England is…"

Alfred stiffened and winced with pain. "England…? What happened to him?"

"He's in a coma," whimpered Matthew. "China doesn't know if he'll survive or not. He's lost so much blood, and his wounds won't heal."

The memory of the wolf's words to him echoed in his mind.

_You need to think about what your _brilliant_ idea__ just did to your friend._

"What have I done?" the American gasped.

He tried to stop them, but the tears fell anyways. The threat of death to a nation suddenly felt so real. His little brother leaned over him and placed a kiss on his cheek, licking up the tears gently. Alfred closed his eyes as the smaller man slowly lay down across his chest, wincing as Matthew brushed his injured shoulder and torn belly. He opened one eye and followed his brother's movements. The little Canadian lightly touched his bandaged shoulder and moved his hand along his chest to the right one, massaging it comfortingly, trying to get Alfred to relax.

"If Arthur dies, I'll never forgive myself," he rasped.

"Stop that," Matthew said firmly. "He's not going to die. England is tougher than he looks."

Alfred only sighed and closed his eye, forcing his aching muscles to relax. He knew his brother would take care of him, and he could already feel his own wounds starting to close up. As he tried to push the thoughts of Arthur away, a new thought sprang up into his mind, along with an image of Matthew.

_You will die at your brother's hands._

The American pushed the thought away. He knew—knew _for certain_—Canada would never betray him.

Or was he just trying to convince himself?

A nagging doubt clouded his mind as he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

Would Canada really destroy America?

**~Canada~**

Matthew felt the change in his brother's breathing and sighed. He was utterly exhausted, energy spent on the training, the pain he suffered for his brother, cooking, and now trying to help take care of England and America.

The young nation slowly and quietly stood up. They had made a small bed on the floor beside the couch for Alfred. Arthur, who had more serious injuries, had been moved to the couch. The Englishman hadn't woken up yet, and it scared Matthew more than anything.

"Is your brother okay then, aru?" a voice muttered beside him.

Matthew glanced at China, who was bending over England with his back to the Canadian. He didn't know what the older country was doing, but from the way China sighed in frustration as he straightened up made Matthew realise that it wasn't working.

"He's fine," the Canadian replied, "but he's not acting like himself anymore. It's like the reality of death is changing him."

The Chinese man sighed and glanced at Matthew with sad, brown eyes.

"It's much harder to heal a broken heart, aru," he stated flatly. "As much as I know about healing wounds, I'll never know how to heal the torture England and America went through in their hearts. Seeing each other get hurt was the worst suffering they could get."

Matthew didn't need advice. Although he was young, he knew all too well the feeling of standing by the side watching helplessly as a person close to him got hurt. The mere memory of America and England trying to destroy each other during his brother's war of Independence still killed him on the inside. Seeing them suffer all over again brought back the pain.

Wong noticed the little man start to tear up and he softened his expression. Picking up the little polar bear from where it sat on the floor, he handed Kumajiro over to the young nation and smiled.

"Go and join the other countries," the Chinese murmured. "Now that these two are bandaged up and asleep, I can watch them myself. There's nothing more you can do here, aru."

Matthew nodded slowly and plodded into the kitchen. The other countries looked up as he entered the room. An icy silence descended upon the company. No one dared to ask the young nation any questions. Anyone could see that he was on the verge of tears. He bowed his head and started trembling.

"I'm going."

"Huh?" Gilbert grunted loudly as the others quietly rippled with surprised murmurs. Ivan tilted his head slightly, his eyes flickering from Gilbert to Matthew.

"I'm going out there," Matthew muttered, clenching his fists. "I'm going to stop this nonsense."

"NO!"

The little Canadian jumped, his head snapping up and indigo-blue eyes widening. Francis, Ivan, and Gilbert had all shouted at once and it startled the others as well as him.

"F-France?" he stammered timidly.

"_Non, petite frère_," stated France firmly. "I forbid you from going into danger alone."

Matthew looked away and paled. Some of the other countries didn't seem to understand the exchange very well, but by the look on Matthew's face, they didn't bother intruding.

"Prussia…" whispered the young nation. "Why…?"

"I'm not gonna let you put yourself in danger," Gilbert growled. "If you wanna stop 'em, leave them to the Awesome _ME!_"

"Russia?" Matthew breathed, barely having the strength to speak up anymore.

The tall man didn't say anything, but he stared into Matthew's blue eyes. The Canadian could see the message clearly. Russia didn't care about what happened to America and England; all he wanted to do was beat up the people who had made Canada so upset. Matthew shivered at his possessiveness and averted his gaze. He could deal with Ivan later.

"I don't think any of us want to lose you, or anyone else, Canada," Ludwig muttered, speaking for the others. "We need to stay together and sort out this mess first."

Everyone nodded and turned to each other, starting to discuss in small groups. France, Prussia, and Russia stayed staring at the Canadian as he strode over to an empty chair and sat himself down, cuddling Kumajiro and thinking about everything he had been through.

"Once, they didn't notice me, so they didn't care," Canada whispered to his bear. "Now all they care about is my safety. If I'm taken, everyone else will be killed."

"Who are…?"

"I'm Canada," he mumbled as he put his head down in his arms on the table. "Now that they know, they won't stop trying to get me. I'll have to watch everyone die. And for what?"

He closed his eyes, listening to the soft murmuring of quiet conversation around him. At least they were ignoring him now—

"Canada?"

The young man glanced up. Ivan was smiling down at him kindly.

"You will sleep now?" he asked.

"Mm…" replied Matthew sleepily, stifling a yawn.

"All of us are tired," Gilbert interrupted. "We're going to scatter ourselves around on the floor again. We'll leave you in peace."

His last words held a challenging edge directed at Ivan.

"Of course," Ivan murmured stiffly. "Sweet dreams."

The East European countries turned and strode off in tense silence. The Canadian was too tired to dwell on the fact that they were fighting personally with each other. He drifted off into sleep.

_Don't die… Please._

_Don't…_

…_leave me alone…_

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

**Translations: **

**French: **_Non, petite frère _= No, little brother.

I'm sorry for this utterly late post. Permission granted to hit me. :P

Permission granted to hit me again because I am procrastinating an assignment that was given to us two months ago and is due tomorrow. And I haven't started.

Damn I'm screeeewed!

Good news is the spring concert is over and I can get back to writing again without too many interruptions. :)

**KEEP ME ALIVE! REVIEW!**


	21. The Key

**_The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive_**

**21— The Key**

**~Canada~**

Waabishki.

Mm…?

What the hell was that?

What?

The vision? Why the hell did you give me that vision! It was going to come true, wasn't it? America was going to die, eh?

_Waabishki circles me, shaking his head slowly, as if in disappointment._

You're going to go mad if you can't handle just that.

What do you mean?

It's your way of sensing the storm.

You mean there's going to be more!

_He stays silent, but that's enough of an answer for me. I take off a glove and slap the wolf across the face, making sure I score my nails down his muzzle. Blood wells up in the tiny scratches and I glare at him. It's what he deserves, right? For showing me my brother's death. Showing me that I was powerless to help._

_I hate him._

_Pain stings my palm and I glance at it. There, on the centre of my hand, is the scar. The scar that was once the wound that helped my brothers return. It hurt._

You think that hurts? _Waabishki__ growls__, reading my thoughts._ Wait until the visions you'll have later on. It will burn you on the inside, if you don't learn how to fight it.

_I bare my teeth and hiss, forcing words through my teeth._

At least I care about my fellow nations! At least I care if they die. If I died, they wouldn't care. They wouldn't even notice!

_Dead silence._

_The truth sinks in and I collapse onto my knees. But the wolf only shakes his head and starts to fade._

Pathetic little nation. You still don't understand.

_This time I'm dragged into a dark, cold area. It's almost like a cave. Here I lie, in my nice, neat clothes. I slip my glove back on and turn to get up, but a weight slides down my side and I shiver. Looking to my right, I see Russia. One arm is around me, as if he was pulling me closer, but now his body is limp. Violet eyes half-closed and glazed, jaws agape and dripping blood, but he looks much more childish than ever. I trace my finger on his softly rounded face, gazing at his torn and bloodied clothes, and at his scarf, slowly slipping off his body. This vision is worse than before. Here, I'm actually touching him. He feels so cold. There's no life in him now. No cheerful darkness, no warm possessiveness. I don't feel horrified or sad. I feel empty inside, like a deep, cold fire is eating my heart up._

_Waabishki is right._

_I'm starting to burn on the inside._

_And I like it._

_**-C-**_

"Canada, wake up!"

The small man grunted and shifted in his seat.

"America's awake and he says he wants to talk to you!"

Matthew's head shot upright and he nearly collided with Gilbert, who was leaning over him.

"Amer…"

The little Canadian exploded from his seat, dropping his bear in the process, and scrambled into the living space, nearly crashing into Ivan.

"S-sorry," he mumbled as the taller country gazed down at him in surprise. Before anyone could say anything, Matthew darted through the small crowd of nations.

Alfred, who was standing despite his injuries, spotted his brother, his tense face relaxing in relief. He opened his arms wide and his younger brother leaped into them. The taller man winced, but didn't let go, holding Canada like a lifeline.

"You're okay," whispered the Canadian with utter relief, nuzzling into his brother's bandaged chest.

Alfred ran his hand through his brother's hair and touched his nose to Canada's forehead, trying to catch the smaller man's eye.

"Of course I am," he murmured reassuringly. He shot a sour glance at the countries who were watching them with interest. Pulling his brother aside, out of earshot from the other nations, he reached in his pocket and brought out the ring of keys he promised to find.

Matthew's indigo eyes widened.

"You have the keys!" he exclaimed. "We can all go down there now—"

"Not yet," the American interrupted his eyes apologetic. "China says England is far too weak to be moved now; we'll reopen his wounds if we do. Everyone will stay up here while you can go down to the basement. Bring a few others with you, just in case."

"You're not going to come?" Matthew inquired, narrowing his eyes. Normally, his brother would be jumping at the chance to get moving and lead the expedition. His attitude now seemed so… wrong.

Alfred shook his head. "I'm staying with England. I can't leave him after what we've been through. He might wake up and get worried about me."

Matthew gazed at his brother for a long moment. Something about America didn't seem right. Since when did he care about the Brit, anyways?

"Alright," he finally replied, although reluctantly. "I'm taking France with me, because I know he won't let me go alone… and Russia."

"What!" Alfred's light blue eyes widened in bewilderment. "Why him!"

"Russia is far stronger than any other country here, and I think even you can see that," Matthew snapped in the Russian's defense, carefully avoiding the mention of their training session. "Besides, I don't think you two could even stand being in the same room together without me being in between."

_And as long as he's in my sight, I can prevent his death._ Matthew added to himself.

"I still don't trust him being with you," America protested hotly. Matthew smiled. Alfred was turning back into the protective older brother he always knew. "How do I know he won't hurt you?"

"I can handle him," replied the little Canadian sweetly. "We've held peaceful negotiations before, so he doesn't scare me."

"Canada, I won't allow—"

Matthew cupped his hand over his brother's mouth and stared into his blue eyes.

"Brother, I am an independent nation," he murmured reassuringly. "I can decide what's best for me and I can take care of myself just fine. All I ask is to never forget about me. Don't hesitate to call if you need help."

They stared at each other for a moment. Matthew remained calm, but Alfred's sapphire eyes blazed with blue fire. Eventually the fire died and he looked away. Matthew removed his hand and Alfred sighed dramatically.

"Whatever, as long as I know you're safe," he muttered, blushing slightly at his unusual show of affection. "I love you, Mattie, and you're my brother. I don't want to lose you."

The little man smiled and hugged his brother tightly. Alfred stiffened at the pain, but returned the embrace with equal feeling.

"It's better if we leave now," Matthew whispered, pulling away and glancing back at the other nations crowding around China and England. "You and Britain need some peace and quiet. Don't argue with the others; let them protect you. Don't push yourself too hard. And please stay safe. Also…" he eyed his brother's body and focused on his face. "You need to put on some clothes. Stop walking around with just trousers on. And what happened to your glasses?"

Alfred simply rolled his eyes and grinned. "You sound like Iggy. What the hell did that British Empire do to you?"

Matthew snorted as he led his brother back to the others. He couldn't stay serious around his brother. The others turned expectantly as the twins approached, the nervous tension lifting at the sight of America's broad grin.

"So do you have a plan?" Ludwig asked Alfred. Matthew stopped and looked around, but none of the countries were looking at him. He sighed; his brother was getting all the attention again.

"Definitely!" announced the young man. He held the keys up and jingled them loudly. "England and I managed to get the keys. If you want to know why we're injured, we can tell you later. Just make sure you never call the other countries by their real names, if you know their names. The enemy wants our names to control us, so don't let them know."

Anxious murmuring filled the room. Alfred spoke over the buzz with ease.

"Canada will be going to the basement now," he continued reluctantly. "France and Russia will go with him." He tossed the keys over to his brother without looking. "The rest of you will stay here and defend the room; I don't want them to access our storage, and China and I need to be defended while we're taking care of England."

"Since when did we put him in charge?" Lovino complained, but was hushed by Antonio. Many of the countries had doubts as well—it was not often they listened to America. But his plan made sense, and they murmured in hesitant agreement.

"Let's get going then," Francis spoke up, shouldering his way past the nations to Matthew.

"Yes, the sooner you leave, the sooner a safe haven can be secured underground," Ludwig added. Japan, Veneciano, and Romano stood at his side.

"Good luck, amigos!" the Spanish man grinned as he joined the Axis. "We'll stay and take care of your brothers. Don't worry."

Matthew smiled and turned to leave. Prussia pushed the others out of the way and put a hand on the Canadian's shoulder. The young nation halted, but didn't turn to face him.

"Canada, listen to me," he muttered in Matthew's ear. "It's really important."

"If this is about Russia, don't worry," Matthew interrupted in his soft voice. "He's not as bad as he appears to be. You're just scared of him because he's the biggest country. And I know how he feels."

"But…"

"He's just lonely," hissed the Canadian. "Stop spreading rumours and leave him alone."

"I'm warning you," the Prussian growled. "Russia's not as nice as you think. He wants you to…"

"I know what he wants," Matthew growled under his breath, glancing at the albino over his shoulder. "But neither do I want him to be killed."

Gilbert froze up, his eyes widening in shock and horror. The look in the little man's eyes were filled with so much sorrow, it was as if Ivan had already died. Was the Russian the next one to die?

With a final melancholy glance at England, the Canadian shrugged off the Prussian's hand coldly. Leaving Gilbert standing speechless, Matthew and Alfred led Francis and Ivan to the basement door. Matthew took a deep breath, inserted the key in the keyhole, and unlocked the door with a click. The door swung open and cold, damp darkness hit the four men in the face. Stone stairs led down into darkness. Francis gulped and Ivan let out a huff of impatience.

"There should be a light switch down there somewhere," Alfred murmured shakily. "I think there's one room that has a set of switches that control the power for all the other rooms in the basement. You're going to have to find that room in the dark."

Ivan turned sharply and rummaged in a nearby cabinet for flashlights. He tossed one to Francis and another to Matthew. Francis looked scared out of his wits, but he kept his mouth shut, feeling ashamed since both Matthew and Ivan looked so calm.

"Ah, Canada," America said suddenly. "Are you taking your bear with you?"

Matthew shook his head. "There's no telling what we'll find down there. Kumakichi is safer with you."

Alfred nodded. "I'll watch him," he promised, watching the others leave.

They faced each other, not wanting to separate again for a second time.

"America…"

"…?"

"Are you…" Matthew's voice cracked and he put a hand on Alfred's chest. "Are you burning somewhere?"

"What?" the tall man's eyes widened in surprise.

"N-never mind," Matthew stammered awkwardly, drawing his hand away. "Sorry for asking such a stupid question."

Alfred took his brother's retreating hand and squeezed it gently. Matthew smiled.

"Take care brother," he whispered as Ivan led the way into the dark passage, followed closely by Francis. "I will come back. It's my promise, because you kept yours."

The twins embraced one final time and Alfred grinned sadly.

"I'll make sure you come back," he said confidently as he stroked his brother's soft hair. "I'll send you my strength. We'll make it through together."

Matthew pulled away and planted a small kiss on his brother's cheek.

"Goodbye," they said to each other in unison.

Canada took a few steps down and looked back.

The last thing he saw was his brother's blue eyes watching him sadly as he closed the door.

Then he was surrounded in blackness.

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

**References:**

"_Besides, I don't think you two could even stand being in the same room together without me being in between."_ –Canada  
>(He's referring to the fact that Canada geographically stands between Russia and America)<p>

"_We've held peaceful negotiations before…" _–Canada  
>(Regarding international interactions between Canada and Russia: the peaceful yet tense territorial disputes in the Arctic about where the border should be and the competitions between their international hockey teams during the Cold War)<p>

I felt like adding a few useless facts in there. I read my History and Canadian Civics textbooks in my spare time. :P

Next arc starting next chapter!

**Review please! They will remind me to post sooner! :D**


	22. The Truth: Third Arc

**_The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive_**

**_Arc #3: The Basement_**

**22— The Truth**

**~Spain~**

Spain looked up as Alfred padded back to the crowd. He had an air of complete misery around him, but the Spaniard ignored that and patted the American on the back.

"Don't worry about anything, _amigo_," he said cheerfully. "Russia and France will take care of Canada just fine."

Alfred didn't reply, but he shot him a sour look as he passed. Antonio backed away, inwardly sighing. Even his cheerful charm wasn't working!

The American wordlessly dragged a chair next to the couch and leaned over Arthur, letting out a mournful sigh. Kumajiro climbed into his lap, but the young American didn't react. China sensed the change in his mood and quickly shooed the others away. Antonio, Lovino, Feliciano, Kiku, Gilbert, and Ludwig made their way into the kitchen and gathered around the dining table. They stood staring at each other for a few moments. Suddenly, Prussia broke the silence.

"So what's our plan?"

"We don't plan on staying with the old Allies, do we?" Lovino added skeptically. Japan, Germany, and Prussia shook their heads decisively.

"We're going to take the battle to the front," growled Ludwig. The others murmured in agreement. "Canada stopped us once, but now's our chance."

"What about America and England?" Feliciano whimpered.

"China can take care of them," Kiku answered quietly.

"Our plan?" Gilbert prompted.

"We get as much information out of America as we can," answered Ludwig, acknowledging the Prussian's impatience with a tilt of his head. "Then, the next time we get into an argument, we'll leave. I doubt America or China will try to stop us."

"So once we're out there, what do we do, potato bastard?" Lovino snarled, mostly to hide his reluctance and fear.

"We track them down using the information obtained from America," the German replied steadily. "It's us against those two humans. What chance do they have?"

That managed to bring some confidence into the Italy brothers, and Spain smiled at Lovino's scared but determined expression. But deep inside, the Spaniard felt a nagging doubt. If it was simply just two humans they were up against, how had these people been able to inflict so much damage on two of the most powerful nations? He shook his doubts away. If Germany wasn't afraid, then neither was he!

"Don't worry about it," Kiku added softly. "We fought together before, and we can do it again. Besides," he smiled warmly, but his dark eyes flickered dangerously, "it's been a while since I've been at war."

**~America~**

Antonio stood behind Alfred, who was still seated and bent over Arthur. Wang had relieved himself from watching them after Antonio convinced him to rest. The two men were silent as they stared at the sleeping Englishman.

"You hated him, didn't you?" Alfred asked after a while. He didn't look up.

Antonio was silent. What could he say? It was obvious, wasn't it?

"When I was with England, he was always going off to wars and coming back injured," Alfred went on, voice unusually monotone. "It wasn't just France. He was fighting you, wasn't he?"

"He never told you?" the Spaniard asked in surprise. "Yes, those battles were with me. And yes, I hated him. I still do, especially after what he did to me."

Antonio moved closer to Alfred until he stood beside him. He bent over Arthur and brushed his hand gently over the bandaged wounds.

"But, I guess, when I see him like this, I can't help but feel a bit sorry," he murmured. "I know he's a gentleman and all, but deep inside, he's still that arrogant beast of a pirate I knew. And I know that no pirate wants to die like this. They want to be killed in battle; die heroically while fighting for their crew. Defending what they treasure most. Not trapped in a building."

Alfred twitched. Heroically? He couldn't imagine Arthur being any more of a hero than a rock. Then again, Spain seemed to know the Englishman's past far better than he did. And England did save him…

"He can be a hero here too," Alfred whispered. "He saved me, even though I couldn't save him."

Antonio looked at the American, surprised to hear the sincerity in his voice that was never there before. For the first time, he truly wondered what had happened to America and England in the building.

"You never told us about what happened," Spain pointed out gently, forcing some cheerfulness into his voice. "Why don't you tell me?"

America let out a shaky sigh, and Antonio was worried he wouldn't say anything. When he spoke, Antonio had to strain his ears to listen.

"We were escaping from the enemies," Alfred muttered, trying to hide the fear in his voice. "Suddenly this creature comes out of nowhere… I think it was some kind of mutated wolf. It attacked us, and while it was going to kill me, England stepped in and took the blow. He saved my life, but ended up like this." He buried his face in his hands. "This is entirely my fault."

"Don't say that," Antonio said awkwardly, patting the young man's shoulder. "It wasn't you that attacked England."

"No, you don't understand," Alfred cried. "I should never have held the meeting here! I should have known this was going to happen."

Antonio stiffened. "What are you talking about?"

Alfred didn't reply as he looked at the floor in guilt. The Spaniard forced Alfred to look up into his intense green eyes. He saw the young man's bright blue eyes widen in shock. No one had seen Spain look so serious before. His green eyes were on fire, and his lips set in a tense, straight line.

"Is there something you're not telling us?" the Spaniard demanded.

"This place was a banquet hall and business building," Alfred gasped, the words tumbling out like a runaway train. The way Spain looked was so unlike Spain and it startled him into submission. "All the rich people who worked in the building would come to the hall for parties. One night, they were having a party when something went terribly wrong. People started to go missing, and then they were found in rooms, shackled in chains and killed. After that, this place was abandoned, but I couldn't find an available hall large enough to fit two hundred countries, so I had to use this one." He took a deep breath to calm himself. "Now whatever happened to those people who worked here is happening to us. I think the same people behind all that are the ones hunting us now."

"This better not be some kind of story you're making up," Antonio growled. His eyes blazed with anger and worry. He knew he looked like the pirate he used to be, and he didn't mind. If he had to scare the information out of Alfred, so be it.

"I swear it's not!" whimpered Alfred. "It's a true story!"

Antonio whipped around and paced the room in agitation. If it was true, would it change the plans for the Axis?

"Stay here. I'm going to tell the others about this," he growled as he reached the threshold to the kitchen. He looked back at Alfred with a frustrated expression. "You should have told us from the start. From now on, we can't keep things from each other. It will kill us all."

"Wait, Spain," Alfred called softly. "There's one more thing you should know, and tell the others, too."

"What is it?"

"Australia is alive…"

Antonio raised an eyebrow; Alfred looked more scared than happy at the news.

"That's a good thing right?" the Spaniard smiled. "Where is he then?"

"No, wait, let me finish," continued the American. "Australia is alive, but he's not on our side anymore."

"You mean…" Spain's smile faded as the words slowly began to register.

"Australia is on the enemy's side," Alfred concluded bluntly. "We've been betrayed."

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

Thanks for all the help and all the reviews everyone! I really appreciate all the support! Thank you so much for reading!

I'm feeling sentimental at the moment. I'll post two chapters today. My exams are coming up though, so it will be a few weeks until I can get up more chapters. Just to let you know. :)

**Please review! :D**


	23. The Descent

_**The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive**_

**23— The Descent**

**~Canada~**

Matthew kept a hand to the rough stone wall to his left as he descended. All he could hear were the soft footsteps of his companions in the darkness. The air got colder and staler the deeper they went, and a shiver ran down the little man's spine. He and Francis followed with their flashlights turned off to save the batteries, relying on the beam of Ivan's light to show the way for them. They could not see anything directly in front of them, but they could feel their warm breath in the cold air and feel the cobwebs brushing their faces. So it was a shock to Matthew when Francis suddenly let out yelp and crashed into Ivan, who let out an exclamation of surprise as they both tumbled down the steps. The little man's ears twitched as he heard them land not far down with a heavy thud. He turned on his own light and leaped down the remaining steps gracefully, taking them at least five at a time.

"What happened?" he gasped as he shone his light down on the two older nations.

Ivan grunted as he shoved the Frenchman off his back and stood up, grabbing his own light, which managed to survive the fall.

"Idiot tripped," he muttered as he inspected the light and turned to look around.

Matthew helped Francis up and looked around as well. His light fell on several different doors that were placed all around the staircase, all made of different types of wood, with brass handles coated with dust. Directly opposite the stairs were two doors. On the adjacent wall to the right were five doors and behind the stairs was one more door, including a little storage area below the staircase with numerous boxes stacked on top of each other.

Ivan made his way to the boxes while Matthew moved closer to the doors.

"Fine," Francis grumbled, following the Canadian. "Don't even ask me if I'm alright. You don't even want to know _how_ I fell."

Matthew felt a chill come over him, and not because of the cold.

"How _did_ you fall, France?" he asked calmly, not wanting to spook the older nation if it was only a misstep.

Francis hesitated, feeling foolish. "Well, it felt as though I stepped on something… squishy… and I thought I felt a sting on my ankle before I fell. But I'm alright; it must have been a bug or something…"

Ivan turned when he heard what Francis said. His expression was calm but when he met Matthew's eyes, the young man could see the alarm in the violet depths. Ivan and Matthew shone both their flashlights down on Francis' legs and they let out tiny gasps of horror. Francis' right leg was slick with blood and a deep gash was torn into his flesh from his knee down to his ankle, shredding his boot and coating it with blood.

Matthew looked up at the Frenchman and could tell by the look of surprise on his face that Francis had not felt a thing. Ivan was gaping with bewilderment. Matthew struggled to keep calm as he drew in a breath and hissed to Ivan.

"Russia! Check your body for wounds you can't feel!" Matthew ordered quietly. "France, check me as I fix this up for you."

Ivan instantly shone the light on every part of his body, fighting to stay calm while his heart pounded in his chest. Francis turned on his light and leaned over the younger nation as the latter bent to examine the injury.

Matthew took off his gloves and stuffed them in his pocket, then tore off the top of Francis' boot—which was already torn to pieces anyways—and rolled up the Frenchman's pants. By then his hands were coated in red, a sign that Francis was losing blood fast. He stared at the mess, not knowing what to do. How was he going to clean it?

He fumbled for a glove and started to pat the wound, the cloth soaking up the blood. He pulled it away and curled his lip in disgust as a string of clear slime was also brought forth from the mess. Matthew took a closer look at the substance and his blood went cold. This, he though, must be what numbed France to the pain. He touched the slime with a finger but it didn't seem to do anything. As he looked around warily to make such Ivan and Francis hadn't seen him, the young nation slashed his finger with a sharp nail (how it had gotten so sharp, he couldn't begin to comprehend). Blood welled from the tiny slash, but he didn't feel anything. Not even a sting or a tingle.

Wiping the blood off on his coat, he continued to wipe Francis' leg clean, speeding up the process and trying to get every bit of slime off, in case it was harmful. Once it was clean, Matthew touched it tentatively and Francis howled in pain. The older nation collapsed onto one knee and rested his chin on Matthew's shoulder.

"Now I feel it," the Frenchman hissed in agony. Matthew inwardly sighed with relief; it meant that the wound had been thoroughly cleaned.

"I need something to bandage the wound, eh," Matthew said quietly. "Rip off a part of your uniform; it's not as thick as mine so it will work better."

Francis turned and reached for the end of the blue cloak, but Ivan was faster. The Russian swooped down and tore the seam with his teeth, ripping the rest of the soft fabric with his hands. He handed it to Matthew and the little Canadian swiftly wound it around the bleeding gash and tied the ends.

Ivan and Matthew stood, with Francis balanced between them.

"Did you take a look at those boxes?" Matthew murmured with a glance at Ivan.

"Da," he replied evenly, "just some old empty bottles and books. What did you find out about the doors?"

Before Matthew replied, Francis interrupted with an uninterested glance at the doors.

"They look the same to me," he muttered. "They don't even have labels or numbers or anything. They're all just wooden doors."

Matthew wanted to drop the Frenchman in his irritation. He was sick of being interrupted and ignored, especially when Russia had finally started to notice him.

"That's because you're not looking close enough," said the little man smugly. "To the untrained eye, they look like ordinary doors, but look close enough and you see they're all different. Eh, Russia?"

He wanted to see if Ivan was smart enough to figure that much out.

"Da," the Russian replied, pointing as he spoke, "That door is darker than that one."

"That's true," Matthew said as he tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement. "But each door is made out of different types of wood." He nodded to the two doors they were facing, shining the light on each door as he spoke. "Red oak and elm. The strongest trees known and their colouration are light." He tilted his head. "Those five doors, from left to right; spruce, birch, butternut, ash, and—" He twitched as he said the last one, but was otherwise unaffected. "—red maple." He twisted his head to look over his shoulder and caught his breath.

"What's wrong?" Francis asked as he and Ivan turned to look behind them. Mathew was staring at the door in recognition and anger.

The Canadian hissed with cold fury, bristling aggressively.

"What's the wood of a sugar maple doing in here!"

Matthew let go of Francis, forcing Ivan to support the wounded man as the little Canadian darted to the door and sniffed the russet-coloured wood.

"Definitely sugar maple," he muttered, almost madly. He seemed to have forgotten about France and Russia altogether.

"What's wrong with that?" Ivan asked innocently, trying not to anger the little man even more. Both he and Francis had seen what the Canadian was capable of.

"_What's wrong?_" Matthew repeated as he whipped his head around, indigo eyes flashing dangerously as he glared, unafraid, at the Russian. "No one_ dares_ harvest my national tree for a stupid _door_! Canadians only ever take the sap, for syrup."

"What about the forestry products you always make?" Ivan continued mildly. "How come you make furniture out of maple trees? Doors too."

"Those are different types of maples," explained Matthew, calming down a little. "Silver and red maples have good sap too, but aren't as sweet as the sap of the sugar maple. So we use those trees for material goods. The wooden crates I use to ship things to you are made from silver maples. Hardwood floors, doors, and furniture are from the red maples."

The older countries were taken by surprise at how much the young nation knew about his resources. They eyed the doors warily and exchanged glances. Neither could have named each type of wood that quickly.

"So what would this all mean?" Francis asked Matthew, inwardly frustrated that he had to rely on the younger nation for once.

"I… I think it might be a code, one only a person who knows about trees can crack," Matthew whispered softly. He turned back to Ivan and Francis, who were still standing where he left them. Far away from him, the Canadian noted with a slight annoyance.

"Could the letters stand for something?" Ivan suggested, shining his light on the oak door. "Maybe the O in oak could stand for _office_."

"But if this place was used internationally…" Francis began to say, before Matthew suddenly broke in, realising what Francis meant.

"That would be like saying it's a _bureau_ in French," he said with a distracted nod. "And that doesn't start with O."

"This is America's place we're talking about here," the Russian snorted in contempt. "Since when did the boy ever think about other countries rationally?"

Matthew watched as Francis nodded, wanting to defend his brother while at the same time not knowing what to say as he silently agreed with them. He pushed the insult to America away and focused on the puzzle, aware of Ivan's eyes challenging him to retaliate.

"Well, there's only one way to find out," he said, slowly making his way back to them. "But first tell me what the E in _elm_ would stand for, just to be safe."

"Emergency? Energy? Empty?" Francis started running over random English words he knew while Ivan stood quietly. Matthew was aware of the tall man's patience wearing thin.

"If you're quite done," he said politely as he interrupted Francis, "we should get a move on before the others wonder what's keeping us."

Without any fear or caution whatsoever, the Russian strode over to the first door, with the Frenchman still leaning on him. Matthew took Francis' other arm over his shoulders and waited for Ivan to open the door.

The brass handle was locked, so Russia kicked the door open with a loud bang. The three nations scanned the room with their flashlights. All they saw was a desk in the back, with several bookcases on either side of the wall and four chairs facing the desk. Everything was coated in a thick layer of dust.

"It's an office," Ivan pointed out unnecessarily. Matthew and Francis shot irritated glances at him.

"Then what is in the next one?" Francis snapped at Ivan. "Care to guess?"

The Russian's lips twitched in an irritated smile. "I wouldn't need to guess if I didn't—"

"Oh, just open the damn door!" Matthew snarled, sensing an argument beginning to form. He let go of Francis and moved on to the second door. It too was locked so he kicked it open with more force than Russia had with the previous.

He gaped at what he saw, face twisted in mixed shock and horror.

Ivan and Francis moved in behind him and he heard the latter gasp at what was inside. Ivan was suppressing a sadistic giggle. Matthew swallowed and found his voice, licking his lips nervously.

"E stands for _execution_."

For inside the large room they saw every kind of killing device that was ever invented.

And every single surface was covered in blood.

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya...<p>

...I disown my insane, sadistic, masochistic mind as well.

I challenge you to guess what is going to happen!

I finished writing the third arc~ I just need to post it. In the mean time I'll tease you guys for a few weeks or so with this chapter. :P

**IF YOU WANT MORE, REVIEW! :D**


	24. The Burning One

_**The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive**_

**24— The Burning One**

**~America~**

"So this story… what you're saying is true?"

"Yeah, of course! I wouldn't lie. Not about this."

America and Germany were facing each other from across the table, blue eyes meeting blue eyes. After a private meeting among the Axis, America had joined them, only to be stopped and interrogated by the German. The others were watching warily, but had enough sense to stay silent. China and England were resting soundly in the next room. Up against the former Axis and their allies, America stood alone.

"And Australia?" continued Ludwig, obviously shaken by the news.

"…" Alfred fell silent. He knew his expression would be enough to confirm it.

"_Mein __Gott_," Gilbert muttered under his breath. "Would that happen if we got caught, too?"

"They're keeping their word," Kiku pointed out flatly. "The enemy isn't killing us off purposely. Instead they capture us and use us to catch Canada. Only then will they slaughter us all, just as they promised."

"Just like in a game of chess," observed Antonio, the cheerfulness all but gone from his eyes, "capturing all the pieces first before going for the king. They have honour."

"If their methods of solving their problems were not so… _sick_," Kiku said, struggling to stay calm, "I _would_ have called them honourable. But there is no honour in killing dishonourably, even though they keep their word."

Alfred stared at Kiku blankly, looking lost.

"What else did you find out?" Ludwig queried with a glance at the confused American.

"The bodies of the assassins we fought were removed," he said distractedly. "I forgot to mention it earlier."

"What do they want with dead bodies?" Gilbert asked out loud, voicing the question everyone was thinking about.

"Nothing good," grumbled Lovino. Feliciano whimpered and Lovino pressed closer to him comfortingly.

"What do you think, America?" Antonio asked the tall man.

"A room of blood…" was his distant reply.

"America?" Antonio started to look worried.

"…"

When the American didn't respond, the Spaniard nudged him.

"Wha…?"

"Something's on your mind, _mi amigo_," Antonio said softly. "What are you still not telling us? Is it your wounds?"

Alfred looked at him with unfocused blue eyes. Ludwig narrowed his eyes and Gilbert folded his arms across his chest, eying the American suspiciously. After a long moment, Alfred looked down and spoke.

"It was a wolf," he began slowly, his hand making its way to his bandaged shoulder. "A huge, mutated wolf attacked us as we made our escape. It… she was the scientist… I think. She was about to kill me. She_ wanted_ to kill me, and only me. England… saved me. And instead he had to…" his voice cracked and he fell silent.

"America-san…?"

"You're not making any sense, bastard."

"Are you alright, amigo?"

Alfred slowly looked up and met Ludwig's eyes. He had a haunted look on his face that made the German shiver.

"I probably sound crazy, and it might as well have been an illusion," he rasped, rubbing the injury on his shoulder absent-mindedly. "But these wounds don't lie. England's possible death is more real than anything. Of that I'm sure."

"America-san," Kiku murmured, extending a hand. "You're making it bleed…"

The bandage around his shoulder was stained red. Blood was soaking through and smearing over his hand. He wanted it to hurt, and he shot Kiku a silencing glance.

He deserved the pain, after all.

He was the one who was meant to die. Not England.

_Oh, God,_ he thought for the hundredth time. _Please not England…_

Antonio stepped forward to grab his hand and stop him, but Alfred only flinched and snapped at him.

"Don't touch me!" he snarled, blue eyes wild and hurt, like a cornered beast.

"America, calm down," Gilbert said softly, moving closer to help him. "What did you mean when you said 'room of blood'?"

A spark of disgust and fear twisted his expression and he hissed.

"I can't say," he spat. "Don't ask me things I don't know."

_America…_

"Just answer our questions, America-san," Kiku said gently. "We just need to know, that's all. You can't keep things from us all the time."

Alfred's lip curled.

"Leave me alone. You don't wanna know what happened."

"America, please," Gilbert pleaded.

"Stop it!"

_Are you burning somewhere…?_

"America—"

"_Stop!_"

Gilbert's hand was extended towards the American. Alfred had grabbed his wrist and twisted it, forcing the Prussian to freeze. For a moment, no one moved.

Alfred let go and Gilbert retreated a few steps back, looking startled.

"Leave."

Germany took it as an opportunity to get out of the safe room. He met the eyes of his party, and then stared coolly at the shaken American.

"Very well," he said softly and firmly. "We will leave. All of us. China will stay to take care of you. Fare you well, America."

He walked out without another word. Gilbert and Kiku followed without hesitation, with the former man rubbing his twisted wrist and wincing in pain. Antonio glanced at Alfred in concern, then gathered the two Italians and guided them to the exit. The door shut with finality behind them.

America's legs shook and he collapsed with despair.

_I'm burning on the inside…_

He doubled over, bit his knuckles, and screamed.

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

**Please REVIEW! :D**

**RECAP**

_Now that all the narrators have been introduced, I decided it's about time to have a recap on everything that has happened:_

In the first arc, The Game, Canada, America, Australia, England, France, Russia, China, Japan, Germany, North and South Italy, Prussia, and Spain all become trapped in a building after a meeting, imprisoned by magical barriers and a mad scientist out to get them. They soon meet her partner-in-crime, the still unknown bluish-black-eyed boy with the slicked back hair and the chilling talent at throwing knives. He manages to take down Australia before he himself falls, making the possibility of death all too real for the nations. It turns into a deadly game of chess; a game of wit and willpower with Canada as king.

Determined to find a safer place rather than stay in their cramped, temporary camp in the back room, America and England set out to find the main objective of the second arc: The Key. As well as the blockage of England's magic. After getting to know each other's true feelings in the dark halls, they find the set of keys… and a room coated in blood. On their way back they are kidnapped and tortured, with only the help of Canada's and America's telepathic powers to help them escape, but at the (possible) cost of England's life.

Meanwhile, Canada learns to draw strength from inside of him, and begins to learn just how powerful one young country can be. With the help of the mysterious apparition in the form of a white wolf named Waabishki, Canada grows stronger and starts to change — for better or for worse.

It is in the third arc, The Basement that America starts to deteriorate. After saying goodbye to Canada, France, and Russia, who travel to explore the now-opened basement, America stays to tend to his wounds and take in the horror of what had happened to him. With the combined traumatizing experience, the belief that it was his fault for allowing them to hold the meeting in the cursed building, and the possibility of England losing his life, America, the famously strong-willed optimist, starts his slow descent into madness.

While China struggles to keep the Brit alive and America struggles to keep himself sane, the Axis devise their own plan to take matters into their own hands and search for their enemy's "king": the scientist called "RedWolf Rocky". Because of this, Spain discovers the hidden truth behind the building's past, and starts to lose his cheerful nature in order to keep his goal in sight. For him, he no longer needs the mask. Therefore, a battle to win information from America only tortures the young nation even more and finally breaks him, giving the Axis the reason to leave…

Meanwhile…

Canada continues to grow stronger;

America continues to lose his sanity;

Spain continues to reveal who he really is.

Their experiences are scarring their hearts and bringing out sides of them that they never knew existed.

Where they will end up, only fate can tell…

…guided by the hands of its creator.


	25. The Blood

_**The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive**_

**25— The Blood**

**~Spain~**

Antonio glanced at Ludwig. It took all he could not to beg him to turn around and go back. His ears still rung with Alfred's agonized scream and he could tell by the scared, guilty expressions on his companions' faces they were reluctant to leave the place behind as well.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Feliciano asked the German nervously.

"As sure as I will ever be," he muttered. "Those Allied nations can do just fine without us."

"The war is over," Antonio said in exasperation. "Can't you ever give up your old enemies and get along?"

"You talk as if you've given up your own enemies, jerk," snarled Lovino. Antonio's face flushed and he looked away guiltily.

"Toni's right," Gilbert growled, putting a comforting hand on the Spaniard's shoulder. "We're all facing the same enemy here. We should go back and form a plan with America and China."

"There's no turning back now," Ludwig said grimly. "America's lost his mind and China's too busy tending to their wounds. We're of no use sitting around doing nothing. Canada is the one that needs protecting, overall. Now that he's not there, the best we can do is go out and find the cause of all this and stop it before it finds us."

There was silent agreement for a long moment, and then Japan spoke up, calm and quiet.

"Where do we start first?"

Ludwig looked at the bloodstained ground, as if in answer. Antonio followed his gaze and traced the trail America and England had left behind with their blood. It led out the room and disappeared into the dark hall. Fear and uncertainty settled in the pit of the Spaniard's stomach when he heard the German's next words.

"We retrace their steps."

**~Canada~**

The little man's blood ran cold when he heard his brother's scream. Forgetting about the room before him, he let go of France and whipped around to face the stairs as if about to run back up to the main floor.

"_America!_" Matthew shouted, his voice cracking with worry. He instantly tried to contact his brother, ignoring Francis and Ivan, who were trying to get him to calm down.

_America,_ Matthew thought furiously. _Please respond!_

_Canada…_

_Brother, _the Canadian thought with obvious relief._ What's going on? What's with the scream?_

_I just need some time to think, _Alfred replied, his thoughts sounding tired and confused._ Please just leave me alone, bro._

Canada hesitated to respond, then:_ Alright. If there's anything I can do to help, just let me know, eh?_

_Thanks dude, _America sighed, his voice fading as he withdrew from the connection._ I really appreciate it._

_There are some really weird things going on, _Matthew commented to himself. He wasn't expecting a reply._ America's actually appreciating what I do for him. It must be the end of the world, _he added with bitter irony.

Matthew turned back to his companions, his expression a mixture of relief and uncertainty.

"Shall we have a look inside that room?" Matthew asked calmly, catching Francis's gulp and slight shake of his head. The corners of his lip twitched in amusement at how scared the older nation looked.

"Da," Ivan replied cheerfully. "Those instruments look quite interesting."

Francis's blue eyes widened in horror, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. Ivan let go of the injured Frenchman and took a step forward past the threshold of the room, waving his flashlight over the numerous blood-splattered objects. Matthew followed, dragging his former guardian along with him.

It was a large room, but the exposed pipes and frame and countless machines made it much more crowded than it should have been. Skeletons and pieces of rags lay in piles near or attached to chains and torturing devices. The smell of decay hung stale and heavy in the air within. The place was very old; the bones—upon closer inspection—were almost white with age, despite the lack of weather and sunlight.

Ivan fearlessly examined the rusty old equipment, running his hands lightly over dull blades and stroking chains and levers and buttons that could end a person's life at will. He wove deftly and confidently through the aisles of death like it was normality. Matthew delicately observed the bodies and blood splatters, taking more time in examining the finer details for clues. He trailed behind the Russian with less enthusiasm and far more curiosity than the taller nation. Francis avoided the room's contents altogether and remained leaning on the wall, looking around nervously.

"I don't think it's a good idea to stay here," Francis rasped, afraid to speak too loud in the silence.

"Why not?" Ivan chirped happily with a dark grin. "This place could be very important, da? It's not every day that we see places like this."

"That is why it feels so wrong," countered France. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"France must be scared," Ivan taunted innocently. "That is why it is fun to imagine him becoming one…"

"That's enough," Matthew interrupted, before the argument could be taken any further. He shot Ivan a sour look and gazed at Francis kindly. "We'll leave then, if it makes you feel any better. There are other doors we have to check out. Come on."

He let France and Russia walk out the door ahead of him. A rattling sound reached his ears and he turned around sharply, casting the light from his flashlight into the darkness. It illuminated the far wall, where a human's skeleton hung in chains. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head as if to clear it. As he closed the door behind him, he stole a glance back.

And he could have sworn that skeleton moved.

**~Spain~**

The journey through the hall and to the staircase was short and uneventful. Ludwig hesitated at the door to the stairs and stared at the smears of blood that stained the front of the door. The heavy door opened into the staircase and closed automatically. America must have struggled to keep it open as he stumbled back onto the main level. A small puddle of dried blood to the side of the door suggested he had also stopped to catch his breath.

Antonio and Gilbert stood close behind the German, staring wide-eyed at the painful evidence left behind by the previous pair. The Italians held each other tight, trembling with fear, while Kiku stood calmly at the rear of the group, watching their backs with one hand on his katana. They bunched up closer to Ludwig, feeling exposed in the large, empty corridor.

Ludwig pushed open the door and leaped in, whip at the ready. The bang of the door hitting the wall and the snarls of the companions echoed eerily through the stairwell, reverberating off the walls and through their bodies, making them jump. They nervously put their weapons aside when they realized the area empty, save for the blood, and filed in.

"_Bruder_," Ludwig muttered. "I want you to take the lead for a while. I will catch up."

Gilbert nodded and both he and Antonio started up the steps. The Spaniard's ear pricked as he caught the German's next words.

"Italy," he said gently, with a characteristic edge to his voice. "I need to speak to you for a moment in the hallway."

"What for, Germany?" Feliciano whimpered as the taller man grabbed his arm and led him back out the door, which shut with another thunderous bang.

The Prussian and the Spaniard exchanged ponderous glances, both wondering what their conversation could possibly be about.

"I believe Germany asked you to lead, not stand and wonder what they're doing," Kiku said slightly icily.

"Yeah," Lovino snarled with a glare at Antonio, "move, bastards."

Antonio and Gilbert walked up the stairs side by side in awkward silence. There were things they would have liked to discuss without the Italian's eyes boring into their backs. At least they were staying on task, which would have been impossible otherwise.

It was not until a short time later, when Germany and Italy had caught up with them that Spain realized with a pang of guilt he should have spoken with Romano too, before it was too late.

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

**Please Review!**

I know it's been a while. This is my Christmas present to everyone. MERRY CHRISTMAS!

The drama llama dropped in on my already-stressful academics. Yay! OTL A Christmas miracle happened and now I'm back in business! Who knew sadomasochism was so useful…? XD

HAPPY HOLIDAYS! I promise to work extra hard this year!


	26. The Doors

_**The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive**_

**26— The Doors**

**~Canada~**

Ivan walked briskly over to the spruce wood door and gently pushed it open. Francis limped up behind him with Matthew hovering in the shadows at the rear. They peeked in, expecting the worse, only to find ancient artifacts from a time before the North American nations were formed. Matthew rushed in, slipping past Ivan and into the little room. Although it was dusty and slightly messy, the artifacts could all be placed within the same time period, around the 1600s. He examined the collection of hunting bows and arrows in awe, much like the one he currently carried.

"Look at this," he whispered. "They are First Nations hunting weapons, from a time before you Europeans arrived here on our land and introduced guns."

"What does this have to do with the door?" Francis muttered as he limped in, supported by Ivan.

"Spruce…" Matthew knitted his brows in concentration, looking up at the ceiling as if the answer lay there. "It was… boiled to make a drink that cured and prevented scurvy in Europeans that arrived here."

"And it was a treatment given to us by the Aboriginals," Francis nodded with understanding. "So this room must include artifacts of America's so-called Indians. But why would these be in here?"

"Profit?" Matthew guessed with a shrug. "They were probably collecting these and selling them. I mean the workers in the building."

"But as far as we know, normal workers knew nothing of this place," Ivan pointed out. "America always said it was locked, and it's clear this place is not used often. And also, there is that torture chamber. I'm sure only few people would even know about that."

"And this place must be ancient compared to the rest of the building," said Francis. "It must have taken years to collect these things, and probably even more to collect dust," he added with a snort.

"There are probably more in the next rooms," murmured the little Canadian excitedly. "Let's go see."

He darted out the door and into the next room. The first thing he saw was a half-burned British flag hanging loosely on a pole, neglected and forgotten in the corner of the room, and blueprints for an old and forgotten building sitting on a table…

"The American Revolutionary War and the War of 1812," Canada gasped as he gazed at the maps covered in familiar strategies and old tools and weapons used for the war.

To one side, the floor was littered with ammunition and contained a box filled with the rejected muskets and bayonets both sides had used to kill each other. On the other leaned a long, silver birch bark canoe. Canada felt a horrible pain in his chest as he remembered being forced to fight his brother in his loyalty to the British Empire. He felt his eyes moisten as he soaked up memories. Whoever owned the place had the consideration enough to include Canada's memoires as well as tokens from America; the wall was plastered with paintings of confrontations and victories on both sides. One showed a British Red Coat, backed up by several Canadians, arguing with an American commander and his troops under a building with the American flag flying high above.

Matthew observed the paintings, some of which were portraits of people. He stopped at a series of portraits, placing a hand on one of a rather confident-looking man in a red coat. His eyes were glassy with recognition and sorrow. He bowed deeply, his free hand clenched into a fist at his side.

After a moment, in which Ivan and Francis stayed respectfully silent, Matthew turned away without looking up.

"Let's see the next room," he rasped before his companions could speak, and he rushed out.

As he opened the next door, Matthew first noticed the red and blue uniforms scattered on the floor. At first he was slightly confused, and hesitated as Francis limped up behind him.

"Is that more Revolution stuff?" he asked in surprise.

"No," Matthew muttered in sudden understanding as he stepped in the tiny room, "the American Civil War."

Ivan nudged past them and kneeled down to pick up a handful of butternuts that had spilled from a box. Beside them were other crates filled with butternuts and roots.

"What's so significant about them?" he asked Matthew, turning around. "Did they eat these?"

Matthew shook his head. "I think they ate the nuts, but they used the shells and roots to dye their uniforms during the war. I'm not sure how though. America never did it again."

"That explains the door, then," Francis said with a nod. He limped as he turned around, clutching the door frame for balance. "There are three rooms left. Let's check those, and then get out of here."

"I think the place is okay," Ivan commented as they strode out of the room. "Besides the room with the elm door, we haven't seen anything dangerous or suspicious. I think we'll be far safer in here."

"I agree," Matthew nodded. "We just need to find light switches, and we can use this place."

He wandered into the next room and what he saw was so familiar it hurt. He could hear the exclamations of recognition and distain from the others behind him. They knew where the artifacts were from.

"The First and Second World War," Francis whispered in shock.

"Look here," Ivan called as he gazed down at a desk in the far corner. "I recognize these maps. Look, it shows the march the Germans took into Stalingrad."

"And look at the trade routes across the Atlantic from North America," Matthew pointed out, nudging the Russian aside to get a better look. "These maps even highlight common U-Boat sightings… and the Black Pit."

"Look here," Francis called, and the two countries turned around.

The Frenchman lifted up several pieces of large cloth from a box by the door. They were the old flags. He held the Soviet Union's red flag in one hand and Canada's old Commonwealth flag in the other.

"There are others too," Francis added as Canada and Russia grabbed their old flags from him in shock. "Great Britain's flags"—he held up a white flag with a red cross on it, and another with familiar red and white stripes and blue triangles—"and mine, too." He dropped them and held up his own blue-white-and-red tricoloured flag. They were all faded, but recognizable. Russia and Canada looked close to tears, both for different reasons.

"My Soviet Union…" Ivan murmured softly. He gently caressed the old flag close to his chest. Never again would he see that flag fly high in victory as it had in Berlin all those years ago…

"Oh, England," Matthew whispered into his own forgotten banner. "Seeing this now makes me feel so bad…"

France's exclamation of horror knocked the two nations from their nostalgia. He had opened a large box in the opposite corner. Ivan and Matthew rushed over as Francis stumbled back in horror.

Half-buried in a pile of ashes were bleached white bones with a skull resting on top in an ominous skull-and-crossbones pattern.

"What's that?" Francis whimpered, voice trembling in fear. Matthew struggled to hide his fear, while Ivan looked slightly surprised and more fascinated than anything else.

"I don't know," Matthew rasped, slamming the lid back over it. "And I don't _want_ to know."

"It could be important," the Russian snickered.

"We'll keep that in mind," the Canadian replied with a tremble in his voice. He turned his back on the room full of memories and walked out, with Russia dragging France along behind him.

"Two more doors," France murmured wearily, "the red maple."

Russia followed the little Canadian to the next door, helping France along. Matthew tried the door handle, which was locked. He kicked the door down and swept the room with his flashlight before entering.

The little room was empty, but a closer look at the walls showed splatters of blood so old, it blended with the dark gray cement walls. By this point, none of the countries were surprised by this. Two chains draped from the wall just across from the door, the ends broken, the shackles torn off. Canada lifted the huge chains off the floor, needing both hands to lift them up, and expected them. He gulped, looking back at Russia and France.

"Wolf teeth," he whimpered, "Definitely wolf teeth."

"How do you know?" Francis queried. He leaned gingerly against a wall as Ivan went off to inspect other areas of the room.

"Think about it," he replied, tossing the heavy chains back on the floor. "The paw prints we saw in the corridor were wolf prints. And when I was telecommunicating with America, he was telling me he was fighting some kind of monster. I'm sure the thing that was chained up here was that same wolf. Only a beast could break chains like these."

"Ah, look at this," the Russian piped up, his flashlight shining on a spot a little to the right of the chains. "Blood… but it says something."

"Let me see," Matthew looked at the spot as Francis limped over. "It's in English."

"What does it say?" France asked from behind them, face twisted in a pained grimace.

"There are the initials 'R.W.' written in blood," Matthew replied. "But the door was red maple. Shouldn't it be R.M. instead?"

"It stands for RedWolf."

The three countries whipped around. Standing at the door was a human shadow with wolf-like ears and a bushy tail. Ivan gripped his pipe tightly while Francis fumbled for his whip. Matthew smoothly unslung his bow from across his back and nocked an arrow, keeping his flashlight trained at the stranger with his teeth.

Illuminated by the artificial light was the mad scientist. She had wolf ears and a tail that were streaked in dark red fur. She drew back her lips to reveal her lupine canines, curved into a wolfish grin. Her red eyes glinted from behind the lens of her glasses. Her head was lowered and body hunched over, like a wolf preparing to pounce.

"Welcome to my world," she said in a snarling voice, sounding more wolf than human. "It is filled with evil conspiracies and bloody experiments. This is the Underground Society of America."

Her wolfish laughter echoed through the basement, chilling the three nations to the bone.

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

**Author's Note:** Everything I wrote in this chapter on regards to the historical aspect is true. He's a summary of my research and where it led me in this story:

_The Spruce Door – Before 1600_

I chose to use spruce because, first of all, it's the only softwood door in the basement. The fact that it hasn't rot yet is something to keep in mind. Spruce needle was used to make drinks that would cure a disease sailors would often get at sea: scurvy. This helped by replenishing the lack of vitamin C and was provided to the Europeans by the Aboriginals. Canada made a point here to single out Russia and France, making it clear this was a part of history only he and America would share.

This door brings the nations back more than 400 years. The Aboriginals (also known as "Indians") had remained mainly untouched up until this point. At this point in history, America and Canada were pretty much on their own.

_The Birch Door – Late 1700s to Early 1800s (specifically: before 1850)_

Birch bark was widely used in this time as a means of transportation. The fur trade was the big boom in this era, and furs needed to be transported swiftly and safely via the waterways of the Great Lakes. Thus, the famous birch bark canoe is used. As a door, silver birch would be white in colour, papery, and dry. If you have ever seen a silver birch, it's unmistakable. If any door were to stand out the most, it would be this one.

The half-burned British flag is pretty self-explanatory; this is, after all, the time of America's War of Independence. And the blueprints on the desk? *snorts in amusement* That's a bit of an inside joke; the Americans were planning to invade Canada (and did, unsuccessfully) and build their own little Empire here. … Okay, I know I'm not being fair here, but hadn't America picked enough fights with Britain? Most of Canada was prepared to be left alone, you know. No thanks to Jefferson (you go type that in a search bar and see what I'm ranting about here!)

By the way, the painting is real. Actually, there are dozens of paintings on regards to the War of 1812 and America's War of Independence if you know where to look.

And the portrait is one of Canada's greatest heroes. He is Major General Sir Isaac Brock and while the political higher ups were sitting and praying for America to show mercy, this man went and defended our land to the death. It's because of him that we're free from America today (at least for the most part…) Poor Canada…

_The Butternut Door – Late 1800s (specifically: after 1850)_

Nothing much to say: Mattie explained it all in the story. Simply put, butternuts were used to die clothes during the Civil War.

_The Ash Door – 1900s_

It's really just a pun. "…Ashes, ashes… We all fall down…" (That's a plague song, but same thing applies…)

The maps are real. Everything is real from this era. I love this part in history, and I couldn't help but linger a bit.

We all know what the Soviet Union flag looks like. At the end of the Second World War, the Russians had gotten to Berlin first and waved that bright red banner atop the highest citadel. One picture taken at the time is quite famous, even today.

Canada had a different flag at the time. It was red with the British Union Jack in one corner and a simpler coat of arms off the one side. Because Canada had contributed so largely (care to argue? Go look at a map of Normandy during D-Day) in the liberation of Europe, debate had risen to a point where a new flag was chosen: one that represented a country proven its worth many times over, not a land branded a British Commonwealth. Not many people know of our Commonwealth flag, which has been forgotten over the years. Any Canadian would be proud to fly the Maple Leaf, but the flag of old should not be forgotten, not when it represented a huge part of our war history.

The box of ashes… I don't like to bring up old wounds, but this is the First and Second World Wars here. We can't forget the Holocaust.

_The Red Maple Door – Modern Day (After 2000)_

You'd be surprised. As fictitious as this is, the RedWolf represents many problems we see today.

You'd think now that the Great Wars are over, so would be the suffering and killing. The chains and blood remind us that there's still pain in the world, pain that can change people for worse (winkwinknudgenudge)

Also, there's been a recent decision that Russia will cut down the wolf population in Siberia so the reindeer can thrive. I don't think Rocky's going to like that…

So there's my brief history lesson! :D These all tie into very true and sad parts in history. I decided to add them in just for fun. I enjoyed doing the research for this chapter! And I hope this also helps you in history class ;)

I'm open to suggestions and/or corrections~!

**Please Review!**

* * *

><p>Thank you <strong>munki539<strong> for that heartwarming review! Writing is really just a hobby for me, and I don't update regularly because, you know, life. But when I get comments like that from you guys it reminds me: "This is for them, not me." I really appreciate all of you who are reading this series! I apologize for my late posts (and future late posts :P) but I hope it does not discourage anyone. No matter how long it takes, I'll always write, for everyone out there. ^^

Annnd for anyone who cares about idle gossip and my own personal life (teehee) I'm happily fitting into the music family as a newbie. And guess what? I've got a boyfriend. In music. LAKSFNAKJN *jumping for joy* So yeah. I'm moving on with my life. Hopefully it won't move me away from what I like to do best~

I WRITE FOR THE WORLD!

-January 2013-


	27. The White Tiger

_**The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive**_

**27— The White Tiger**

**~America~**

He didn't know for how long he was laying there, body curled up into a tight ball, face wet with tears and blood. America looked up and saw China. How long had the old nation been standing there? He stared at his hands slick with blood, with dried skin and blood clogging the area under his nails.

America was a disaster, utterly defeated and ashamed, practically alone.

"Come now, America," the older man said gently, kneeling before him. "I don't want you dying of blood loss, aru."

"What'd I do..?" he mumbled to himself, staring with unfocused blue eyes at the mess on his hands.

"It seems you were ripping your brain out, from what I can see, aru," the other replied calmly. He wiped the young nation with a damp cloth, blood soaking the blue fabric and turning is bright red. "Head wounds bleed a lot, aru."

America shoved the cloth away and stumbled to his feet. Dizziness instantly took over him and he fell back against the dining table. He clutched his head and moaned.

"Nothing left," he whimpered. "I don't have anything left to live for. Kill me now."

China was shocked to hear the optimistic nation spouting such atrocities.

"Think about your people!" he said harshly. "You have them to live for! Even if we're gone, they'll still be there, aru!"

America sighed and staggered over to the couch where the unconscious Brit lay.

"England… England…" he moaned collapsing to his knees before him. "Please wake up. Please. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. It really should have been me."

Yao looked at him in concern, standing awkwardly to the side and debating whether or not to interrupt. His ears pricked at a tapping just outside in the main conference hall and his body stiffened.

"America…" he hissed to the young nation. "There are sounds outside, aru."

The American stayed bowing over the sleeping one, his hand automatically reaching for the gun at his waistband that was no longer there. The enemies had stripped him and England of their weapons as well as their clothes and dignity. His blood ran cold and his body stiffened, but he did not look up.

"China," he growled. "Get me a knife from the kitchen. Quickly!"

The Chinese darted into the kitchen and silently withdrew two knives and a wok from the supplies. He returned and tossed the two knives at Alfred, whose eyes flashed as he caught them with both hands. He stood up, looking alert and lively, although his movements slowed with blood loss. The two countries stood in between England and the door, weapons raised.

England suddenly started to glow a vibrant green, the air crackling with magic. The nations looked back, startled, as the wounds closed up and colour returned to his skin.

"England has his magic back all of a sudden?" Alfred gasped. His attention was drawn back to the door when something began pounding at it, followed by the scraping sound of claws against wood.

The two nations stood uncertainly, torn between checking on the Brit and standing their ground.

"China—!" America couldn't finish the cry as an enormous white shape exploded from the door, debris flying everywhere.

The nations' eyes widened at what was revealed to them. A white tiger stepped into the room, bone white claws clicking on the ground. An aura of darkness radiated from its pure, frosty fur and its sleek fur bristled with hate. It was sleek and stepped lightly, giving the impression of something agile and fast. Although it was an animal, it carried itself in a confident, intelligent manner, and its blue-black eyes were human-like and eerily familiar as they narrowed at China.

"I know you…" gasped Alfred shakily. "You're the dude who threw the knives at us."

Alfred saw his companion's brown eyes widened in sudden recognition.

The creature advanced slowly, muscles rippling under the black-streaked fur. Its eyes flickered to Alfred, only briefly acknowledging him before refocusing on the older man.

"I have no quarrel with you, American," the tiger rumbled in a language that sounded half English and half big-cat's growl. "I don't care what Rocky wants with you, I'm here for my own revenge."

Its claws scraped the ground as it leapt at China, letting out a monstrous roar. America came up behind the pouncing beast and pulled its tail. With a pathetic whimper, it stumbled back, falling not too gracefully onto its rear. It blinked and roared at the bold American indignantly.

Alfred leaped out of range and raised his knives, a grin creeping onto his face. He tried to lure it away from China and England, but it was no use. The tiger saw what he was doing, sniffed, and turned its attention back to the Chinese.

"What did I do to you, aru?" Yao cried out, desperately holding up his wok.

"You and your people skinned my family alive for their bones," the beast snarled. "Now it's my turn to skin you!"

It leaped again, but Alfred stopped it by kicking its side. It tumbled into a wall and let out a screech of frustration.

"I have a few questions to ask you…" the American growled, approaching the stunned animal threateningly. "First of all, what name do you go by?"

The tiger only snapped at first, but with a flash of the blades in the American's hands, it submitted with a snarl.

"I no longer know my real name, but I'm called WhiteTiger William, assistant to that bloody Red Wolf," it said reluctantly.

"So… William," Alfred went on slowly. "This whole game your master threw us into… it really has nothing to do with global warming and your plans to replace us, does it?"

"That much is in fact true," it replied, a bit smugly. "But that is not what our true aim is."

"It is revenge," said Alfred quietly.

The tiger grinned in reply.

"Why?"

"I don't know about Rocky, but it's definitely because of our pasts," rumbled the beast. "We only know one common goal, and it's to eliminate the nations with the most power in the world and replace them with beings like us, who can run the world properly."

"What do you know about us?" Alfred snarled suddenly, eyes blazing with blue fire. He slammed the tiger into the wall with his superhuman strength and glared at it. "You don't know what it's like to be a nation; to have the loyalty and pride of each and every citizen burning inside you; to feel the pain when something shatters the unity of your country." He choked back tears as he went on. "You have no idea what it's like to live thousands of years, to bear that much history on your shoulders and have no idea what the future holds."

"Then why don't I find out?" the animal snapped its powerful jaws in the American's face, held back only by Alfred's incredible strength. "I always wondered what it's like being a global superpower."

"It's great," the American replied in a monotone. "But before you even _try_ to kill me, I just want to know why this 'Rocky' is so interested in my brother."

"I have no idea myself," WhiteTiger replied, a grin creeping onto its face. "But I remember her mentioning something about Canada's beast being unchained within him…"

Alfred tilted his head in confusion, and the animal took the moment's distraction to twist out of the man's grip and dart towards Yao, who was listening to the entire conversation.

"China!" Alfred cried out in shock as he turned towards them, too slow.

"I'm okay, aru!" he yelled back, slamming the wok into the beast's side and leaping away from Alfred and Arthur. "Check on England, aru!"

Alfred hesitated, but his concern for the Brit won over his Hero instinct and he slipped aside to check the unconscious man.

"England," he whispered, resting his head on the other's cheek. "Great Britain, United Kingdom, Arthur. Wake up. Please don't die."

The air shimmered around the Brit and Alfred pulled back in surprise. There was a cry from behind him and he glanced over his shoulder to see the tiger's form wavering.

"W-what's going on!?" the beast shouted. "Why… am I changing?"

China stepped back and watched as the tiger withered on the ground, the air shimmering like a mirage around him as he fought to keep himself from turning into a human.

Arthur shifted and let out a little sound, causing Alfred to refocus his attention.

The Brit slowly opened his eyes. Alfred looked at him, losing himself in the vibrant, emerald green depths. Arthur smiled at the face above him.

"Eng—"

Arthur motioned for Alfred to keep quiet as he rose gracefully from his position on the couch. He unraveled the blood-soaked bandages, allowing them to fall to the ground as he stood, revealing unmarked flesh and smooth, milky skin.

His leafy eyes met the dark blue eyes of the bewildered tiger across the room.

"Your block on my magic is temporarily canceled when you transform," England explained bluntly, his gaze flickering with the hatred his calm face didn't show. "I didn't expect it when Rocky first did it, but I understand now. Your transformation had woken me up, and I fed off of your magic slowly to heal my body." He lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes. "That is why you feel weak now. Your magic is out of control, and so your body takes on its original form, which in this case would be an ordinary white tiger."

The animal snarled and lunged for England, lacking the grace and control it had only a few moments ago. Before anyone could act, the Brit pointed to the cat.

"Be gone, you git," he commanded as a wave of power blew the creature back and out the broken door, into the conference hall.

With a final growl, the big cat turned tail and fled.

Arthur nodded to Yao, who looked too stunned to react, and he turned to Alfred, who met him with a big hug.

"Artie~!" he cried out. "You're alive! You're alive!"

Exhausted, the two blonds crashed onto the couch, with the taller man showering the other with kisses.

"Yes, yes, I know I am, you insufferable twat," Arthur laughed as he tried to push the American off him. "Now get off me, you're heavy! And you're bleeding, too…"

"I don't care about me!" Alfred grinned, ignoring China, who stood watching the two in amusement, and then deciding to disappear into the kitchen for a while. "You're alive and well and that's all that matters right now!"

England laughed as America refused to let go, then started to calm down when he realized something was completely wrong. Alfred felt the other tense up and he finally let go, bracing his arms on the couch as he looked down at the Englishman slouching on the seat beneath him.

"America?" the Brit asked curiously.

The younger nation stiffened.

"Where are the others?"

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

This is for **I'mnodomino** so you won't lose sleep~ Also, to **esdertytg** for keeping the provinces in mind. XD


	28. The Undead

_**The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive**_

**28— The Undead**

**~Canada~**

"What do you want with us?" Matthew breathed in horror.

Rocky's wolf ear flicked but she pretended not to have heard.

"Fifty years ago, this place was a business centre. The locals would hosts parties in the grand ball room on the main floor: what you now call the world conference room. That hall could hold a good two or three hundred guests or so: just enough people for my experiments," the young woman licked her thin, sickly grey lips. Matthew noticed France visibly pale at the sight of her. "Little did they know I had constructed a research facility underground. Over time, my minions have accumulated stories and keepsakes from wars and events all over the world. I stayed within, biding my time. I gradually started to piece together the existence of such immortals like you; people who could heal themselves and lived through many wars to fight again, only to never grow old. I became interested. It was just my luck that you nations walked right into my paws."

"Fifty years?" Francis gasped after the knowledge had sunk in. "_Mon __dieu__! _You look no more than twenty years old!"

Ivan elbowed the Frenchman hard in the gut.

Rocky, to their surprise, howled with uncontrollable laughter.

"It's unbelievable how you can say such a thing!" she gasped when she could use her voice again. "Just look at yourselves! You've lived far longer than I have and you look no older than me."

"That's because we're nations," Matthew pointed out.

Rocky scowled. "You think you're the only ones that don't age as quickly as mortals do?" She bared her canines, tipped reddish-brown with dried blood from countless kills. "Look at me. I am a monster. No mortal would be able to live like I have. True I was once mortal myself, and I do still remember what it was like. But this life is just too sweet. I can end my freakishness now, but I choose not to. I'd rather watch others suffer and die when I am free to live." She howled in ecstasy. "I defied the laws of nature! I no longer exist in the world! Scientists can only dream of such things!"

Matthew gulped. She was drunk on immortality.

"How did you do it?" Ivan and Matthew said as one, although Ivan sounded genuinely curious, while Matthew was frightened out of his wits.

"How I did it, eh?" a very faint Canadian accent crept into her voice, but she bit it back with a lupine growl. "I'm an alchemist. I was born to bend nature."

She snapped her fingers.

"And my specialty is twisting life."

The RedWolf leapt forward, transforming into a complete red wolf in mid-air. This wasn't just any ordinary wolf, though. Time seemed to slow down and for a moment, Matthew could see the demonic figure in all its twisted glory, illuminated in the dim light. The wolf was huge, standing almost as tall as he was, with blood red fur and jet black stripes. Its eyes were a deep blood red, with flecks of gold deep within. It had an over-sized ruff that bristled into piercing spines, and tough black plates that covered its chest and underbelly. Its paws held two sets of claws: one set was long and straight, like razor blades built for ripping and tearing; the other set was hidden beneath, small and hooked and made for grappling, making it impossible for the victim to escape. Both sets were stained a terrible reddish-brown.

Stunned by the sight, Matthew couldn't let go of his arrow, which was trembling in his hand. Ivan quickly stepped to his side and clashed his pipe with the monster's claws. There was a brief ear-wrenching moment of steel against bone, then the RedWolf broke away, retreating with a snarl and pawing at its ears.

Matthew and Ivan glanced at the wolf's exposed side and lower un-plated abdomen and exchanged a glance. As equipped as the beast was at the front, its sides were terribly exposed. Head-on attacks could kill, but if they managed to avoid it…

Francis, who was leaning on the wall behind them, let out a shrill shriek, startling Ivan and Matthew. The two wintry nations whipped around, but the Frenchman was gone, his cries cut off abruptly.

"FRANCE!" Matthew howled. There was an echo of mad laughter and then silence, save for the clicking of claws on the hard floor.

The two remaining nations stiffened. Howls of hunger and suffering started to rise to a deafening crescendo around them. Russia and Canada stood back-to-back, forcing down panic. The shadows suddenly seemed alive with creatures.

The wolf tilted its massive head back and keened out, long and low.

"_Arise my brethren!" _the voice of their adversary echoed from the beast. _"It is I, hunter of ghosts, leader of the dead. Arise and join in this feast!"_

Like a scene from one of America's stupid sci-fi thrillers, skeletons and half-rotting bodies alike slowly tumbled over to Ivan and Matthew from all sides, drenching them in the stench of carrion and death. The two nations started to breathe through their mouths to block the scent, but it seemed like it was clogging the back of their throats. As their flashlights started to flicker out, they managed to glimpse most of their assailants and recognized them as the assassins that had attacked them at the start. The assassins they had _killed_.

Matthew and Ivan started slipping on the floor as they inched back towards the wall, and they looked down to see the floor running with blackish-red blood and sickly yellow-green pus and bile. Matthew paled and threw up, much to the delight of the Undead, who became increasingly excited. Ivan grabbed the small man and shoved him into a corner, blocking Canada with his body.

"Stay there and do not move _da_?" growled the Russian. "I will take care of this."

Only one flashlight was on now, and it was so dim neither nation could see a thing. Matthew peered up long enough to see the last rays of light shine on a wolf's blood-drenched head, saliva trailing in thick, transparent strands from its hungry jaws, uttering one, reverberating word:

"_Checkmate."_

Then the light flickered out and all hell broke loose.

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

RedWolf Rocky and WhiteTiger William belong to me~

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

This is my parting gift before I dive into the second semester. *takes a deep breath* CANNON BALL! ALSKGNASKJLGN! XD


	29. The Basement

_**The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive**_

**29— The Basement**

**~America~**

"They are _what!?_"

Alfred winced. Maybe it wasn't the right time to tell him…

The Brit had been healing the American's wounds while the story had been told. China had offered to back up parts that America had forgotten. When they got to the part where Canada, France, and Russia had gone to the basement, England exploded, forgetting America's wounds.

"Why did you let them leave, you git?" he demanded. "And where are Germany and Japan and everyone else?"

"Canada tried to stop them once. Now that Canada's gone, they left in search of that Rocky dude."

Arthur stood in silence for a moment to let it all sink in. Alfred guided the Brit's attention back to his wounds. Arthur absent-mindedly continued healing.

"Your magic seems a lot stronger now, aru," Yao observed quietly.

Arthur blinked at his glowing hands. "You're right. That bloody block in my magic has lifted. Is it because I defeated the tiger, perhaps?"

Alfred opened his mouth to speak, but instead felt like his throat had suddenly clogged with blood. He coughed, the reek of death and bile thick in his nostrils. Yao and Arthur glanced at him in concern.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked.

Alfred lifted a finger. His stomach was churning uncomfortably, as if he were about to throw up. He reached out to contact his brother, eyes closed and imagining tendrils of power stretching out across the distance between them, down to the basement…

With a yelp of shock, he was thrown back, as if blocked by a mental force field. He recoiled and his blue eyes snapped open as he sat, shivering.

"What happened?" demanded Arthur, instantly realizing what America was trying to do. "What's happened to Canada?"

"I don't know…" Alfred replied shakily. "We have to go down there…"

He got up, face set into a grim expression of silent determination as he strolled over to the storage room and rummaged around inside. He came out and tossed a white shirt at England, putting one over his head and covering his scarred chest. He didn't have time to allow the wounds to heal properly, but at the same time, he hoped the scars would remind him of his brush with death.

The shirt was skin-tight, showing off the powerful muscles that rippled beneath his skin. In contrast, England's shirt seemed loose over his lanky form. Arthur made a point to take a thorough look at Alfred and the American could feel his face heating up. Without his glasses and dress clothes, he probably looked a lot younger, realizing it probably reminded England of the past…

Alfred turned away and unlocked a safe with a key at his belt. He withdrew two pistols, loading the chambers with fresh ammunition and tossing one to Yao.

"Are you alright with your magic?" the American asked stiffly without glancing at Arthur.

"Yes, I believe so," the Brit replied quietly, flexing his fingers and muttering wards under his breath.

"Alright, then. Let's go," Alfred growled, feeling stronger as he shook away the nostalgia and marched past the older nations.

No one dared hurt his brother and got away with it.

**~Canada~**

Matthew lay on the ground, refusing to surrender so easily. Arrows darted out into the mass of zombies from behind Ivan, keeping them at bay while the Russian took them on, several at a time. Matthew was scared of Ivan, but also admired his fearlessness. The cold-hearted nation seemed to be enjoying the battle, the sensation of his metal pipe against soft flesh. Although Ivan couldn't kill them, he had decapitated or crippled most of the Undead, causing them to slow down their attacks.

In desperation, the younger nation clutched his three remaining arrows, refusing to let them loose and risk losing his weapons. He glanced up at Ivan, whose violet eyes were dark and hooded and a savage, Cheshire-like grin was spread across his face. He was drenched head-to-toe in blood that did not belong to him, giving him an insane, butcher-like appearance. Matthew could see, in the cold and darkness and a river of blood, Ivan was in his element, the biggest, strongest, deadliest country in the north.

Suddenly, a deep, commanding shout reverberated through the basement. All the Undead seemed to drop dead at once, leaving Ivan, Matthew, and the RedWolf standing, stunned. Rage slowly began to register on the demonic wolf's face as she realized she had dragged it out too long. In a last, desperate attempt to get to Canada, she lunged at Ivan.

Russia was strong, but slow. He raised his pipe to counter one bone-jarring blow, but was not fast enough to dodge the lightning-fast swipe from the RedWolf's other paw. He gasped with shock and pain as the curved hook-like claws snagged his cloak and pulled him closer, followed a split-second later by the straight-edged talons that sank deep into his right side, slicing right between his ribs. Matthew watched as Ivan's blood splattered his face, eyes wide in bewilderment and dismay. There was a moment of silence as the wolf stood motionless, Ivan's body hanging limp in her claws. Matthew let out a horrified wail and the RedWolf drew her talons out in a smooth, wet _schlik _sound. Russia crashed into the wall and slid down beside Canada, coughing up globules of blood.

**~America~**

He could smell the choking scent of death. It hit him like a tidal wave. England and China were covering their mouths and noses with their arms, which told America that at least he wasn't imagining it this time.

Moments after England had said a spell that would release the souls of any Undead, a blood-curdling wail echoed through the basement, turning the three nations' blood to ice.

"_CANADA!_" America howled, and leaped down the stairs into darkness, taking the steps four at a time. By this point he was numb to any pain. He felt a flame of power blazing in his heart, like a phoenix had just unfurled its blazing wings. He bared his teeth and hit the ground running.

He would kill anyone, as long as his brother was still alive.

**~Canada~**

Matthew stared, unseeing, at Ivan on the ground beside him. The vision he saw in his dreams what felt like years ago had made itself into a reality. The RedWolf was laughing madly, turning back into her human form, ears and tail spiked and long hair hanging down over her face.

"How does it feel, Canada? To lose one of your own?" she lowered her head and grinned. "You should have joined me when you had the chance. Then none of this would have happened!"

"Why…?" he whimpered, never taking his eyes off Russia, who was struggling to breath. "Why have you done this? What are you trying to accomplish?"

The RedWolf hesitated, drinking in the sad sight before her. She cocked her head and hissed between her serrated teeth.

"I'm going to take away from America what he took away from me!" she declared, her body dissipating into the shadows, voice ringing in the air. "I lost my family, my home, and my dignity as a human. Now, by Hell's fires, I condemn America to a damned life worse than death!"

Canada shivered. Her curse hung in the air long after she was gone into the darkness.

Ivan turned to Matthew. "She can't curse anyone without knowing their True Name…" His voice cracked and he coughed painfully, blood splattering the floor. Matthew dragged himself over to him and put his arms around the taller nation's blood-soaked waist.

"Don't speak, Russia," he murmured, fighting back tears. "Your wounds will heal if they're given a chance…"

Ivan shook his head slightly. "There are some wounds even we can't survive." He drew a long, shuddering breath and put an arm around Matthew, stroking the other nation's long hair gently. "There's no other nation like you… Canada… You and I… We have hearts of Winter… We could rule…"

"Russia, please!" Matthew whimpered. "Don't speak! Russia! You're just going to hurt yourself more…"

"Ca… nada…" Ivan gasped, his breathing fading, his eyes closed. "I…"

"Russia…?" Matthew drew closer, his cheek brushing Ivan's jaw as he strained to make out the words. But the tall nation was already unconscious, his life slowly but surely draining away.

Matthew buried his face in the other nation's neck and breathed in the crisp, frosty scent. Russia had finally noticed him after all those years, and now the great nation was dying. He rested his head and listened to the slowing heart beating in his chest. No matter what the other countries said, Russia did have a heart, and Matthew had a feeling he had finally won it… only to end up losing it so soon.

He heard footsteps and heard America screaming and shaking him. Matthew refused to let go of the body, which had grown cold some time ago.

**_-C-_**

_I stood on the surface of that black lake. Beside me stood Waabishki on an island of white ice. We were both looking into the pool, staring at Kumajiro, America, England, and China, who were trying hard to shake Russia and me awake. It was like watching a tragic movie with no happy ending. It didn't seem like that life belonged to me._

_Quietly, without a sound, Waabishki turned and walked away, leaving drafts of freezing air in his wake._

_I simply stood, staring at Russia, the Arctic nation. Like me._

Ivan… Braginski…

_I said his True Name._

_I just couldn't bring myself to say "goodbye"._

* * *

><p>Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya<p>

RedWolf Rocky and WhiteTiger William belong to me~

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

THIS IS WHY I SHOULD NOT FAST-TRACK!

And what does she do? She fast-tracks anyways ALSKFNAKJGBAJBGAKJGB!

Sorry for the delay. Me has a KILLER TEST on Tuesday for English. I cannot begin to express my hatred for _"Wuthering Heights"_.

Right now I'm supposed to be working on a documentary film. Lol nope xD

I love ya'll! No matter how long it takes I won't forget about you guys! Thanks so much for reading!


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